A/N: Written for a competition over on LJ for the AU team. Could not have been nearly as good—or would not have been nearly as long—without remuslives23 or planetgal471. (Many thanks, ladies!)

Disclaimer: You know the drill: not mine, belong to JKRowling and her minions, have no money worth suing for...

"Physical bravery is an animal instinct; moral bravery is much higher and truer courage."—Wendell Phillips

"Acceptance of one's life has nothing to do with resignation; it does not mean running away from the struggle. On the contrary, it means accepting it as it comes, with all the handicaps of heredity, of suffering, of psychological complexes and injustices."—Dr. Paul Tournier

No matter how many days passed, Remus just couldn't stand being in a crowd. Walking through streets filled with people made him jumpy and ill-tempered. Order meetings became difficult for him if there were more than ten people in the room. He'd fidget through the meeting, either jiggling his leg relentlessly or twiddling with pieces of paper, his wand, and whatever else happened to be within reach. He dodged all Order missions that would require him to trail Death Eaters through the streets of London. Judging by the sharp looks that Moody gave him, Remus' evasions had been noticed. Moody would regard him with pursed lips for an uncomfortable moment or two and then order him to go to libraries and small shops for information and items of interest.

Moony very quickly developed a skill in getting information from people who were thought to be secretive. Both Dumbledore and Moody seemed impressed at his success. I wasn't overly surprised: Remus' usual calm demeanour made people trust him. He was using it to the Order's advantage now instead of just for the Marauders. By the secrets he gleaned, the information he pulled from previously tight-lipped people, I knew Remus was doing his absolute best, if only so he could prove himself of worth to the Order doing something that he was comfortable with.

The day came, however, when Moody needed the Order to lurk outside the railway station at King's Cross, watching for two brothers that he knew dabbled in Dark magic. It was rumoured they were to meet with Voldemort and possibly give him some items that would aid in his quest for domination.

"A few Aurors will be there, but they're not taking the rumours as seriously as I'd like." Moody stated frankly. "I want as many of you as possible to be there to take up the Ministry's slack. We cannot allow these bastards to get to him!"

I glanced at Remus. He had paled slightly, but he didn't look overly upset. I hoped that meant he was ready for the crowds that would be at the train station. Moody did assign him to patrol outside the station, and I hoped that might help him from feeling claustrophobic. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to keep an eye on him: I had been assigned to watch two adjoining platforms.

It was not nearly as tedious as one would think. I was constantly casting spells on the people clambering on and off the trains, testing for spells that would disguise one's identity or Disillusion others completely. I was looking at the people, searching for the features in the photos that Moody had shown us before we got here: sharply chiselled cheekbones; long, thin noses; dark brown eyes.

Still, I admit I was nervous about it all. Moody had warned us that there would probably be Death Eaters there to escort the brothers to Voldemort. I didn't doubt that, especially when I thought I saw a man with the long, silvery blond mane that could only belong to Lucius Malfoy two platforms away. Marlene MacKinnon, on a random sweep around the platforms, mentioned she thought she'd seen Evan Rosier nearby.

Warning each other to stay alert—or to have 'Constant vigilance!', as Moody would say—we parted ways. Less than twenty minutes later, however, I felt the ground shake. A silvery, ghostlike figure swept through the air and circled me twice before saying in Moody's unmistakeable growl: "Front entrance, Black!"

By the time I reached the entrance, the horrified and panicked screams could be heard clearly over the sounds of the trains and loudspeakers. People were flooding through every door, dropping luggage and handbags and briefcases in their haste to get inside. An explosion rocked the building again, and the screams rose again, even more terrified than before. It only took a few seconds to realise that it would take all of my strength to push through the frightened mob and get outside. I had to resort to using some charms to shove people aside to give myself room to move. Once I was outside, I inhaled deeply and glanced around to assess the situation.

I was right: Voldemort had guessed we would be there to try to intercept the brothers. He had instructed his Death Eaters to do whatever they needed so that Malfoy and Rosier could Apparate the two men away from the railway station without us knowing about it. What I was seeing was their diversion. There were easily twelve Death Eaters making their way toward the building, all snapping spells at the people who were unlucky enough to be outside and within their sight. Muggles were running every which way, screaming in distress and horror. The few wizards that were there were putting up protective spells and sidling away from the fight. A few brave souls were helping some of the more helpless Muggles.

None of the Death Eaters had noticed my presence as of yet. Quickly, I dodged behind a low concrete barrier to the right, where I could hide while considering my situation. A particularly vicious black-robed figure was lobbing off Blasting curses at the supports of the more modern canopy leading to the interior of the station. I rose quickly, threw a Stunner at him, and then dropped back down in one smooth move.

I waited for spells to smash into my hiding place, or for wicked streams of light to zip over my head. Nothing happened. I moved down a foot or two along the wall and then peered over the top. I didn't see the Death Eater I'd tried to Stun; I hoped that meant he was down and someone had dragged him away. I threw another Stunner at another Death Eater close by and smiled with satisfaction as he fell.

Unfortunately, that did gain the attention of one of the other Death Eaters. I thought it might be Antonin Dolohov by the mask he was wearing and his accent. We began trading spells, and for a while, I was aware of nothing else but our duel.

Suddenly, a figure ran out from behind a parked car and launched itself at my adversary. They became a rolling, struggling ball of black fabric and all-too-familiar brown leather.

"Remus!" I shouted. "Get the hell away from there!"

He didn't listen. Instead, he was rising above the Death Eater, one knee pinning the masked man to the ground. He growled wolfishly as he pressed the point of his wand in the Death Eater's throat.

I leaped over the wall and ran to him, casting protective spells as I went. One or two spells hit my invisible shield, causing cascades of silver and green sparks.

Remus didn't look up. Instead, he spat out the incantation for a nasty spell sometimes called Miniature Lightning. The Death Eater jerked spasmodically beneath Remus' leg. The mask, loosened by his paroxysms, fell from the man's head, proving to me that I was right—it was Dolohov.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelled frantically, feeling the electrical impulses rippling out from the spell and the downed man.

Remus leaned more weight onto his knee as he ended the spell; the Death Eater gasped for air. Remus' teeth were bared in a snarl and every muscle was stretched tight, making his features look sharper—and more feral—than usual.

"Fuck, Remus! Stop it!" I demanded. I reached out and grabbed the leather on his shoulder.

He jerked himself away from my grip as he turned his head and snapped, "I'm going to kill the bastard!" There was no doubt in my mind that he meant it.

I could see gold glittering among the blue in his eyes and my heart stopped beating for a moment. I was suddenly aware that a bad situation had become extremely dangerous—and Remus, at this point, was unpredictable. "You didn't kill Rodolphus or Bellatrix, and they deserved it more!" I countered, grasping at the first barely coherent thought that crossed my mind.

"You know he deserves it!" Remus insisted, turning his eyes back on the Death Eater. He dug his wand into the man's throat a little deeper. The Death Eater made a strange gurgling sound.

Fear raced down my spine in the form of chills. Dolohov was an evil murderer—by all accounts—and probably did deserve whatever Remus wanted to do to him. But my friend, the one who happened to be a werewolf, wasn't thinking clearly. He wasn't remembering that killing the man would bring him to his own death. "Bind him and let the Aurors take him!" I said insistently. "Damn it, Moony! If you kill him, the Ministry isn't going to give you any mercy!"

"Fucking Death Eater bastards don't have mercy, either!" Remus said between gritted teeth.

For once, logic was going to have no impact on him. He would not be reasoned with in this state. I'd have to resort to something else.

"Moony, if they kill you, it'll kill me," I whispered, not caring what the Death Eater beneath Remus' entrapping leg would think. "And they will kill you. Think!"

Remus jerked and again raised his eyes to meet mine. Rapidly, he blinked. "Sirius—"

"I can't lose you now! Please, Remus! Don't! Think of what you're doing!" I was vaguely aware that I was nearly babbling in desperation. However, my panic was finally starting to seep into his awareness. I could see the fury dissipating; confusion and worry and resentment flickering through his eyes and across his face. I pressed my advantage. "If you die," I finally said softly, "I'll die with you, because I won't let them take you without a fight."

He took a shuddering breath, deep enough that made me think he hadn't done so since I'd started talking. His shoulders slumped and I watched the gold recede until there was only sapphire blue. "Incarcerous," he muttered. He staggered to his feet as the ropes wrapped themselves around Dolohov's limbs and torso.

"Good work." A gruff voice said behind me. Still charged with adrenaline and worry, I pivoted, raising my wand defensively, even though the voice was recognisable. Alastor Moody's magical eye was whirling madly in agitation. "The Obliviators are coming," he told us. "There will be hell to pay, and I don't want the two of you here. Go back to headquarters—and I mean straight back—and stay there. I'll take care of that." He motioned to Dolohov.

I nodded and muttered something in agreement. I grabbed Remus and pulled him to me as I turned and pictured our destination in my mind. A second later, we were in the alley behind headquarters.

Remus immediately pushed himself away from me, stumbling over his own feet. His breathing was quick and shallow and a light sheen of sweat had appeared across his pale skin.

"Moony?"

"Gods, Sirius! I was going to kill him!" he whimpered, refusing to meet my gaze. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest and leaned against the brick wall behind him, rocking back and forth as his anguish manifested itself.

"No, you weren't," I replied softly.

"Yes, I was!" Moony's distress was bleeding into his voice and into the tense air between us.

A bang further down the alley made us jump and I grabbed Remus' arm. "Let's go inside and talk."

He didn't argue with me. When we first got into the building, however, the buzz of voices in the dining room made us pause. We looked at each other and recognised the need to be alone reflected in each other's eyes. In silent but mutual accord, we went up the stairs and into the first bedroom on the right.

"I would have killed him," Remus insisted again.

"I wouldn't have let you, Moony," I assured him.

"Don't you see?" my lover asked, his panic beginning to rise again. "I didn't have control of myself, Sirius! I was ready to kill him! I would have if you hadn't been there!"

I half-pushed, half-pulled him to the bed and shoved him none-too-gently down onto it. I dropped next to him and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly between both of mine.

"What if the wolf isn't gone?" he whispered, his eyes flooded with dread and fear.

I sighed. "Moony, the wolf is never going to be gone completely. It's part of you. Yes, maybe it's a little closer to the top than usual, but you're still able to control it. If you weren't in control, you would have killed him right away without even thinking about it twice."

He looked at me doubtfully.

I didn't know what else to say to him. He wasn't ready to believe me and—the notion made me cold all over—there was a small part of me that wondered if I was wrong. There are times when words cannot express what one is feeling. I needed him to understand that, whatever happened next, I was still going to be there. "Come here, Moony." We wrapped our arms around each other and sat there until Moody sent his Patronus to find us.

Dumbledore and Moody met us in the small kitchen. Both men stared at us solemnly before the Headmaster asked, "How are you, Remus?"

My partner swallowed hard. "I've been better."

"What happened, Lupin?" Moody asked. I'd never heard him speak so gently.

The man's unexpected tone made Remus' shoulders hunch in shame. "I was outside, just like you'd ordered—"

"No. What happened with that Death Eater?"

Remus dropped his gaze to his shoes.

Moody and Dumbledore exchanged glances, seemingly having a wordless conversation. Moody suddenly nodded and tilted his head in our direction.

The Headmaster smiled reassuringly as he turned to us. "Remus, am I right in saying that you haven't been very comfortable since you've been back?"

Moony hesitated before saying softly, "Yes."

"We've noticed that you have been avoiding crowds," Dumbledore said quietly.

Remus shrugged slightly. Confession might be good for the soul, but it was doing nothing good for him: he was pale and he stuffed his hands in his pockets as he did when his hands were shaking.

The Headmaster gently placed his hand on Remus' shoulder. "It's been difficult for you, Remus, and we've noticed that. You have taken amazing steps toward your recovery, but I wonder if you've had enough time?"

I saw alarm streak across Remus' face, and I think we were wondering the same thing: was Dumbledore going to release him from the Order? I felt a lump rise in my throat. The Order was the one thing in Remus' life that consistently gave him purpose and made him feel—human. Or so he said. Whatever I thought about his phrasing didn't matter; the message was clear: Moony loved the Order of the Phoenix—the people and what it represented and what it accomplished. There was nothing he wouldn't do for any one of its members, and he would be devastated if he was no longer able to be part of it. He tried to step back, to step away from Dumbledore, to keep from hearing the words we both suspected were coming. The older man tightened his grip on my friend, however. "It will be fine, Remus. Have patience and have faith."

"You've got some bloody amazing defensive spells," Moody said somewhat impatiently, though intuiting what was disturbing Remus. "We're not letting you go."

Moony's eyes widened. "You're not?"

"Not at all. Besides your defensive work, you've demonstrated a definite knack for research and getting information in the past month." Dumbledore's smile returned, looking surprisingly smug. "The timing for us to discover that talent could not better."

Remus tilted his head and gave the older man a wary look. "How so, sir?"

"In case you hadn't discerned it from the scrolls I sent to Sirius, I have received information that Voldemort has been dedicating a lot of time, effort, and money to discovering the secrets of the soul and immortality. However, I know there are many avenues we need to pursue. There are people who know bits of things that, once we've assembled the pieces, will tell us exactly what Tom Riddle has achieved and how we can thwart him. Or so is my hope."

"And?" Remus prompted cautiously.

"I'd like you and Sirius to consider taking on the responsibility of doing the lion's share of this. I need someone reliable, clever, and yet, intuitive. Between the two of you, I think you could be exactly what we need."

Remus looked at me, and for the first time in a long time, I saw a flicker of hope in his eyes.

"There is one small—concern," Dumbledore's caution nearly dowsed Remus'—and my—rising interest. "Some of the things you will be researching will be dangerous. The runes translations I may need you to do might bore you to tears. I may need to send you to other countries or into dangerous situations and places."

I know my curiosity was piqued, and I tried to keep from grabbing the man and shaking him to find out what his point really was.

"I do think, however, that you will need time and space to concentrate and study," the Headmaster continued. "You will need to be able to come and go without being traced easily."

"In other words," Moody said, "You'll have to go back into hiding."

"We would ask that you keep yourselves available for some of our larger missions," Dumbledore added.

"Where would we go?" I asked, almost breathless.

"There is a small cottage in France... I believe you might be familiar with it."

It took a few seconds for it to sink in.

"It wouldn't be located a few miles south of Arles, would it?" I asked, attempting to sound flippant, but failing miserably. It sounded like I was almost begging for a positive answer.

"As a matter of fact, it is," Dumbledore replied, his blue eyes twinkling.

I turned and looked at Remus. He looked almost frightened. "Moony?"

"It's not possible," he said softly. "It can't be that simple, can it?"

"The simplest things in life are often the best," the Headmaster said with a sly smile. "You do not need to make the decision right away, for I know there are many things to consider. Why don't you go home and discuss it? Perhaps you could meet me at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow morning with your answer?"

We didn't need to discuss it quite that long. I think the matter was settled within ten minutes. Moony's still tender psyche and my concern for him made it an obvious decision.

Epilogue

"There is only one happiness in life -- to love and to be loved."—George Sand

"Come on, Moony! I want to be there before it shows up!"

There was a quiet chuckle. "You weren't this excited about your own Hogwarts letter, were you?"

"Yes, I was," I called back, turning another page of the catalogue that I was perusing. "But only because I knew I was getting out of that mausoleum."

Again, he laughed softly. A moment later, he came into our turquoise bedroom and stopped in front of me. "You can't be serious."

I looked up at my partner in crime, research, and life and grinned. "You can't expect me to let them send Harry off to Hogwarts without some little token."

"Padfoot, he won't be allowed to have a broom in his first year."

I sighed and let my shoulders slump dejectedly. He'd seen the small hole in my plan so easily. "Yes, I know."

"So, why don't you get him something you know he can use?" The corners of Moony's eyes crinkled as they did when he was truly amused about something—or when he was up to something.

I sat up straight and closed the catalogue filled with racing brooms. "What do you have in mind, Moony?"

He crossed to the wardrobe and reached into its depths for a brown paper bag.

I took one look at the name on the side and grinned. "Perfect!"

His smirk was positively evil. "Of course."

"What in the world are those?" James asked, turning the small paper-covered nuggets around to inspect each side.

Remus and I looked at each other and then at Lily. She sighed in disgust. "Fine," she snapped. "Have your little boy secrets. But if Harry gets detention because of any of this rubbish, I'll have my revenge."

I shuddered. "Gods, Lily. As if the thought of Voldemort coming back isn't enough to haunt me!"

She smiled wickedly and left the room, leaving the three of us to upend the bag altogether and start to paw through the items that cascaded onto the table like excited children.

"This is the French version of a Dungbomb," I said, holding up one item.

Remus pointed to another. "That creates an oil spill the size of a small room."

"This one creates a cloud of smoke."

"When you break this open, you'll hear bells and whistles and sirens and all kinds of other noises. It's great for a distraction."

"This one will trace someone's footsteps."

"And this one—"

"How come they didn't have this shite when we were in school?" James demanded, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"They might have," Remus said with a shrug. "But these things are French."

"The French are devious little buggers," I added. "Subversive."

James laughed. "You two fit in perfectly then."

Remus chuckled, and I asked in feigned shock, "What? You thought we were there just because we liked the food?"

James reached over and poked me in the belly. "I can see you like the food."

"Hey!" I protested, smoothing my shirt down over the still flat stomach muscles.

"I keep telling him he can't eat an entire cake in one go anymore," Remus sighed in mock dismay. "He just won't listen."

A few more teasing barbs somehow led to a wild wrestling match on the floor between James and me, while Remus scooped up the things we'd brought for Harry and put them back into the bag.

"Gods, Sirius, you weigh as much as a bloody Hippogriff!" James panted once I had him pinned to the floor.

I bounced on his spine and he gasped out a groan.

Harry suddenly raced into the room. "Remus! Sirius! Look! I got my letter!"

"Congratulations, Prongslet!" I shouted, scrambling to my feet, and grinning like a fool. Harry grimaced and I saw Remus roll his eyes. "What?"

"Sirius, a boy going to Hogwarts is not going to appreciate the name 'Prongslet' as much as he did when he was four," Remus said calmly.

I wasn't going to be deterred. "All right, then. What about Prongs Junior?"

"Sirius!" Harry moaned.

"Mini-stag?"

Groans from everyone at that.

"At least I didn't say 'Fawn'," I pointed out. "Buck?"

"Harry will do just fine," the boy in question stated firmly. "What did you bring me?"

Remus and I visited the Potters at least once every two weeks, but we always brought something for Harry. He was more than just the son of our best friends, James and Lily. He was one of the inspirations for us to finally defeat Voldemort.

"What makes you think we brought you something?"

"You always bring us something." The boy grinned shamelessly.

Remus held the bag out toward Harry. "Just remember that I was the one who picked these out. Your godfather was eyeing up brooms that you wouldn't be able to use this year."

"Next year, though," I promised.

While Harry goggled over the items and the explanations that Remus was giving him—as well as tips as to how to use the things to their maximum effect—James pulled me aside.

"Lily's told me to tell you that we can't make any more comments about Snape."

I clutched at my heart. "She can't mean it!"

"She said it's time to let bygones be bygones and be mature about things—yes, yes, I know," he hurried to add, seeing the look of horror that I knew was on my face. I noticed that he sounded rather disgusted by the situation himself. "But he did warn Dumbledore about Voldemort targeting Harry, and he did help set up the trap."

"Just because he helped get rid of Voldemort in the end doesn't mean shit to me," I grumbled, but even I could tell that I didn't really mean it. Snape had done an uncommonly brave and un-Slytherin thing by coming to Dumbledore and betraying the Dark Lord. "Just because he wanted free of Voldy's leash—"

"Yes, but he did put his life in danger for Lily's sake and I have to respect that," James said grudgingly. "Or so Lily tells me. She did also point out, though, that Harry has to put up with Snape for the next seven years, so it could go badly for him if he's carrying my piss-poor attitude and prejudices into class with him."

I stared at my brother-in-all-but-name. "She said that?"

"Do you think I would have? I wanted to give Harry a Dungbomb and a bottle of shampoo and tell him to leave both in Snape's office the first chance he got!"

"Bloody stupid idea making him a professor, anyhow," I said resentfully. Then I brightened. "If they'll hire a Death Eater, do you suppose they'll ever hire a werewolf to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts? You know Moony's always wanted to teach at Hogwarts."

James glanced over at Remus, who was writing something down for Harry. What it was—instructions for mischief, directions for placing some of the items we'd brought, or just some interesting swear words to use—I didn't know. Considering how absolutely diabolical Remus could be, I was afraid to ask. "Are the two of you done looking for Horcruxes, then?" James asked.

I hesitated before answering. "I don't know whether we got all the Horcruxes or not. There's no way of knowing until Voldemort comes back—if he comes back."

It was a year after we'd returned to France before Remus and I were able to confirm that Voldemort had found a possible means for immortality. Dumbledore had been collecting memories of Tom Riddle—the man who would become the Dark Lord—to find the chink in his armour to destroy him once and for all. A memory from our Potions professor, Horace Slughorn, gave us a clue, but it had obviously been tampered with.

Moony and I recruited Lily to help us. She'd always been one of his favourites because of her skill at potion brewing and had been in Slughorn's Slug Club. She went to Slughorn's house and pleaded with him to give her the memory—the real one. Lily appealed to him on every level that she could, reminding Slughorn how she'd had always looked up to her favourite Potions professor; telling him how wonderful the victory over Voldemort would be and how he would feel having played such a crucial role; telling him about Harry and what he was like; and then nearly bludgeoning poor Sluggy with how she was fighting for the chance to have her son grow up in a world of peace.

In the end, Slughorn gave her the memory: a conversation Slughorn and Tom Riddle had about Horcruxes. It was a very difficult and very Dark piece of magic, imbuing objects with bits of a Dark wizard's soul so that he would remain alive while those pieces existed. It was almost awe-inspiring to realise that Voldemort had created not just one, but several of them. We made up lists of possible items that Voldemort could have used and went hunting for them. We went into places we'd never have dared go otherwise: into the Lestranges' vault at Gringotts, and back to my childhood home at Grimmauld Place, to name two.

We hadn't heard of any other Horcruxes recently, and we'd been relentless in searching out those who might know. I was beginning to think—no, I was beginning to hope—that we'd gotten them all. Hopefully, when Voldemort returned—if he returned—we could destroy him once and for all.

Remus sent Harry off to hide the bag of troublesome little items in his trunk and turned to face us. He froze and then slowly cocked his head to one side. "You two look like you're plotting something," he said suspiciously.

"Who, us?" James motioned to himself and then me. "Not us. Never."

I gave my lover my most innocuous smile. "I'm as innocent as freshly fallen snow."

Remus pretended to retch and then clapped James on the shoulder. "Your eldest is heading to Hogwarts, Prongs. Do you feel old?"

"You should feel even older. Your birthday is before mine." James poked a finger at Moony's hair. "What's that? Is that grey?"

Remus smacked his hand away. "Shut up, you prat."

"Why is it that every time I come into a room, someone is hitting someone else?" Lily asked, exasperated. "Honestly, you lot are like children!"

"There's the baby!" I cooed, reaching for the bundle that Lily held in her hands.

"No cursing, wrestling, or disgusting behaviour while you're holding him," Lily warned.

"You say that every time," I complained.

"That's because I'm stupidly hoping you'll listen this time."

"He did that with Harry and Harry's turned out all right," Remus pointed out, oh-so-helpfully.

"Don't defend him!" Lily cried. "Why did we name you Peter's godfather again?"

The Order had lost several brilliant witches and wizards in the years of the war, but none of the losses hurt as badly as the loss of Peter. After Snape had come to Dumbledore with the information that Voldemort was going to try to kill Harry, Dumbledore had recommended the Potters hide themselves immediately under a Fidelius Charm. I agreed straightaway when they asked me to be their Secret Keeper.

Peter worried that the Death Eaters would come after me. He pointed out that the Death Eaters would know I was closer to James than anyone, and I was too obvious. He suggested James and Lily use someone else as their Secret Keeper. He even volunteered. I appreciated his concern for my safety, but I thought that my absence from England for so long would act as a sort of smokescreen. I argued that it was more likely that Peter himself would be thought of as the Secret Keeper, considering that he'd been spending more time with James since I was gone.

In the end, Peter agreed that the Death Eaters' assumption of his involvement would mean he should go into hiding as well for his own safety. Remus and I offered to let him stay with us in France, but he told us he would skip around England for a while. His hope was that the Death Eaters would think he was trying to hide because he was the Secret Keeper, and he could draw their attention away from me. We told him to be careful. He was smiling when he assured us he would be.

Within a matter of three days, however, Peter was killed by Death Eaters in Blackpool. The only recognisable part of him that remained was a finger.

When Harry's little brother was born, it was a matter of rejoicing because James and Lily had tried so hard and for so long to have another child. There had been no question in their minds that they would name the baby after our fallen friend.

Remus reached into the pocket of his sports jacket and pulled out a small stuffed toy which he dangled in front of Peter's hazel eyes.

"Prank items for Harry, a stuffed toy for Peter—Curse Breaking is treating you well this week," James said, referring to the freelance work that Remus often did.

Moony smiled lopsidedly. "Well, it hasn't killed me yet."

"Oh!" I smacked my forehead lightly with the palm of my hand. "Speaking of death... Do you have the you-know-whatsit?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Such a charming introduction to the subject." Muttering the word 'death' under his breath, he reached into his other jacket pocket for an ivory vellum envelope.

"What's this, then?" James asked, struggling to open it.

"Read it." I went to stand next to my lover while James read the letter. Prongs' eyes were shining with barely suppressed excitement as he handed the letter to Lily to read.

Lily's lips mouthed the words, and I felt like I was reading it with her: "Dear Monsieur Lupin: A position has just become available in our school... Defensive Magic... the Headmaster at Hogwarts... recommended you as a person who might suit our needs..."

"Remus," Lily said breathlessly, "Beauxbatons? Really?"

Moony smiled. "Unless the letter is a very elaborate and cruel prank designed by your husband and my partner, I'm rather inclined to think it's authentic."

Lily let out a rather undignified squeal and launched herself at Remus, almost knocking him over. Peter jumped at her loud and rambunctious display of over-enthusiasm and began to cry.

"Lily! What kind of mother are you, scaring your son like that?" I asked, but I couldn't keep the smile from my face.

She ignored me, hooking her arm through Remus' and dragging him into the kitchen, probably to open a bottle of wine to celebrate. She was already firing question after question at him: "When did you get the letter? Have you accepted already? When do you start?"

James and I stared at each other with bemused smiles.

"Gods, it's great to see him finally getting something that he's wanted so badly," James said.

I tilted my face down toward Peter's, not wanting James to see the tears of pride that had suddenly risen to my eyes. The sudden weight of James' hand on my shoulder told me he'd seen them anyhow. "He deserves this." My voice shook a little.

"He does," James agreed.

"Who'd have ever thought that going to France would turn out to be the best damned thing we ever could have done?" It was purely rhetorical, but James gave a reply anyhow.

"I'll admit that I thought you were making a huge mistake." He smiled. "Honestly, Sirius, I didn't think you could cope with the responsibility."

I looked at Peter. "Huh. Listen to him. He didn't think I was responsible enough to take care of your uncle Moony. Your father is a right arse."

"I was," he conceded. "But I've changed my mind since then." He bit his lip as if he wasn't sure whether he should continue his thought. "You're good for one another, Padfoot. I'm glad you have each other."

He'd never said it before. Granted, he'd accepted us with no questions and only a few teasing comments, but it meant a lot to me to hear him say it. "You only say that because you don't want me around here all the time," I said gruffly.

"That is true." Then his grin spread across his face and he leaned over to ruffle my hair.

I complained loudly, balancing Peter in one arm while raising my other hand to push the errant strands back in place.

"Vain mutt," Prongs teased.

"Daft deer."

"Would the two of you get your bloody arses in here?"

"Remus John Lupin! Watch your language!"

"Sorry, Lily!"

"And you think you're going to teach children with that mouth?" Lily was asking Remus as I walked into the kitchen.

"Yes, and he'll do it brilliantly," I said confidently. I leaned over and pressed my lips to his to prove that his mouth was good for other things as well.

As we drank a toast to Remus and his new job, I couldn't help but stare, noticing how beautifully happy he was. Yes, he had streaks of grey in his hair that hadn't been there even five years ago. The little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were a little more pronounced now. But the relaxed, content expression on his face was similar to the one I'd seen thirteen years ago, running through the marshes in the Camargue. I could feel my want and need for him thrumming through my veins just as strongly as it ever did.

As if he knew what I was thinking, he looked over at me and lifted his glass in a silent salute, but I shook my head. I didn't deserve the acknowledgement; the triumph was all his own. He'd fought hard to regain his memory and his humanity. He'd worked hard to prove himself. He'd learned to accept my love unconditionally.

And I'd learned that happiness and love were best seen in blue—not golden—eyes.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed or put this story on alert. I truly appreciate the support! :)