A/N: I have no apologies or excuses. I just want to thank those readers who have kept with me and continued to read and review, even through my horrible delays. This is the chapter most of you have been waiting for. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Fifteen: Unplanned

Remus Lupin could feel the moon rising even as he walked briskly toward the entrance hall to get to the Shrieking Shack. After that dreadful night two-something years ago, Remus had sworn never to ride out the full moon where the wolf might harm a student, wolfsbane or not, but here he was, breaking that promise.

When Snape had told him to remain close to Hogwarts so that he could test the modifications he'd made to the potion, Remus hadn't been as worried about sleeping in the shack as he had been by Snape tampering with the one thing that made him (moderately) safe during the apex of the moon cycle.

"That is ridiculous. If my hypothesis is correct, you should feel nothing during your transformation," Snape had snapped, already back to the potion he'd been grading when Remus had knocked on his office door.

The werewolf had been a little surprised that Severus Snape of all people would be so, well, compassionate, to even remember the pain that came with the change. If the potion for the wolf—"Wait, you said 'if my hypothesis is correct'. What happens if it's not?"

If the bat of the dungeons had been capable of shrugging, that's how Remus would have described Snape's response. "Either the whole potion will fail and the wolf will go mad with pain or you will die."

"'Mad with…' There is a chance Moony will go insane and be in control?" Remus had gone almost as pale as the resident potions master, and he'd suddenly had the powerful urge to throw up the revolting, possibly torturous, potion he'd chugged five minutes prior. Then his eyes had widened comically. "And you want Moony in howling distance of the students? Are you mad?"

Snape had written something in his grade book and looked up before he'd answered. "Yes."

"Yes?" Remus hadn't been sure what was more infuriating: Snape's seeming indifference to the extremely likely danger he was subjecting the students to, or that he'd fiddled with the wolfsbane in the first place.

Snape had prevented further argument by saying calmly, "You have little choice now, however, unless you trust yourself to get to Hogsmeade and apparate to wherever you normally change in less than twenty minutes."

"He's brewing the potion and I'm taking it!"

Remus couldn't help overhearing the argument that was going on in an abandoned classroom that had startled him out of his memory. It was a myth that werewolves had heightened senses while in human form, but he didn't need super-hearing to hear the "conversation". Nor did he need to slow down, but he did anyway—old habits die hard and Remus was nothing if not a loyal Marauder.

"Do you know what could happen if the great bat screws up?"

The male voice was familiar, but Remus knew it was impossible that his first impression was correct. He probably remembered it from an Order meeting. If not from the Order, then it was just because he always used to associate that type of argument with them. And Moony often (more so since Padfoot had returned) forgot that his pack leader was dead.

"Ja—Don't you think…"

Remus stopped mid-step. What had the female started to say? A strong feeling of "I told you so" swept through his conscious. Moony was waking up. Remus had to get to the shack fast!

OOOOOO

"I don't need your approval! I died to save my son from that bastard, don't think I wouldn't risk my sanity for the same thing!" Lily stormed out of the classroom, slamming the door on her way out.

James stood on the same spot, waves of annoyance, frustration, and fear crashing over him. On one hand, he could understand his wife's passion. On the other, he knew he couldn't live with himself if she died. He'd never tell her, but he'd faced Voldemort that night, faced certain death, not only to give his wife and son a chance to life (and, granted, that had been the primary reason), but also so that if Voldemort did manage to do the unthinkable and kill his family, he wouldn't have to watch them suffer.

The idea of seeing his love, the one person he was supposed to be with, gone, crazy, out of his grasp… James shuddered. He needed to get out. Away. Fast

OOOOOO

Remus was running outright now. He was almost to the willow when he shuddered violently, the hand that had been reaching to grab a stick to prod the knot that would freeze the tree snapped to his side as he closed his eyes. He used his last few seconds to pray that the monster clawing its way out of the darkness would just die, or at least run, before a student did.

His world went black.

OOOOOO

Remus blinked. And blinked again. Where was he? What had happened? The last thing he remembered was—Remus sprang up. On four legs.

Remus twisted around and Moony's mangy tail swatted him on the nose. Remus sat on his haunches and howled in unadulterated ecstasy. He didn't care how it'd happened. It didn't matter, because for the first time since his fourth birthday, the full moon didn't mean pain.

There was no backstabbing, mindboggling torture of freshly aligned bones, no muscle spasms from being yanked in different directions, and perhaps best of all, the wolf's conscious wasn't just drugged into submission, it was dead to the world. Remus had control of a pain free and energetic body.

He howled again and leapt into the air like a puppy. But then he saw something and that something proved this was all a dream. How else could that particular stag be standing in front of him?

OOOOOO

James hadn't planned on transforming. He'd been at the top of Hogwarts' steps, intending to cool his spinning thoughts down by the tree that the Marauders had often visited in their youth—the same tree where James had first realized he truly loved Lily "Bookworm" Evans back in third year. He'd set one foot on the next step when he'd heard the first howl.

He'd recognized it immediately, having spent almost every month from the start of his fifth year to his first death keeping that howler in check. And tonight it was much closer to the school than anyone liked or needed.

What if Moony attacked a student? What if someone saw him and got a good shot in? What if he lost his last pack mate? Those thoughts and more must have flitted across James' mind, but they didn't register completely as Prongs was already leaping down the steps and charging to his pack mate's side.

But what he saw stopped his hooves a few feet away from said mate's side.

Prongs' mind went into overdrive. Moony was leaping. Leaping. Prongs had seen enough werewolf transformations to know that one, no matter how crazy the werewolf, one would never leap; two, the pain of assuming the pseudo-wolf/dog shape was painful enough to keep the werewolf stunned for at least thirty minutes; and three, no ordinary wolf could jump like that, in pain or otherwise.

Then Moony's eyes met Prongs' and Prongs knew. No wolf could have so much longing and hope behind his eyes.

All at once, Prongs knew it was time. He no longer cared about Dumbledore or keeping his distance. His last friend—no, brother—needed him. Prongs took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Without opening them, James pulled his wand from its holster and reversed the spells that had hid the truth from his pack for so long.

OOOOOO

Remus didn't know what he should be feeling. Betrayal and joy surely, but he was only numb as he followed the man who'd prodded the knot on the tree and was leading the way into the tunnel toward the Shrieking Shack. This was all a dream, right? He'd wake up tomorrow to Ministry aurors carting him off to Azkaban for attacking Hogwarts and Dumbledore's disappointed stare. He'd wake up and Sirius and James would still be dead. He'd wake up to nothing but the knowledge that he was the last Marauder, the last of his pack.

If wolves could cry, Remus would, but they can't, so Remus raised his head and howled. He howled at the unforgiving moon and the cluster of stars making up his best friend's shape in the sky, and the pain of being the last of his pack swelled until he wanted nothing more than to claw his fractured soul out of his body. He couldn't take any more of this, couldn't they see? Couldn't the universe see that it was time to stop playing with Remus John Lupin? His cries echoed down the tunnel, shaking dirt loose and making the air thick with soil particles, but he didn't care.

Firm hands forced his snout down and eyes the sorrowful werewolf knew were hazel even if they were gray in his present form met his. His next howl caught in his throat.

James pulled his brother into his arms, not caring that guys don't hug for once. Remus was enveloped in the scent that no matter how many times he'd wished for it or Moony had begged, he hadn't smelled in fifteen years. The smell that was so like Harry's and yet all together different. The swirl of what Sirius had once called "a la Jamesikins" convinced Remus that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't alone.

His mind was just processing that thought when Remus felt the strong arms loosen and push him away. Remus scrambled to all four feet, preparing to wake up in Azkaban, when he heard it.

"I am so sorry."

For the millionth time in a few long minutes, Remus was frozen. Why was a dream telling him he was sorry? Shouldn't he be the one apologizing? If this were really James, be it him in person or ghost, he needed to know that he, Remus Lupin, was the one who didn't save Sirius. He was the one who'd let Dumbledore place his son with Lily's sister. He was the one too obsessed with proving he wasn't the traitor to realize who was until it was much too late. James needed to know that everything that had happened to the Marauders since their graduation, every bad thing, was his fault.

It took Remus a couple of seconds to realize James was crying. That more than anything struck him to the core and convinced him beyond a doubt that this was no dream. No figment of his imagination could make him see something he'd never seen in his life. He had never seen James cry, not even when his parents had died in their seventh year. James Potter was too strong for that.

Not for the first or the last time that night, Remus wished he could speak. He settled for pushing his bony side against James. James curled his knees up to his chest and pushed against Remus' back as he let out all the bottled emotions, much as Remus had minutes ago.

OOOOOO

The tears had long ago stopped flowing and dried on James' cheeks, and the reunited brothers were still sitting, slightly cramped, in the pitch-black tunnel when James broke the silence. "I guess you want the whole story." It wasn't a question.

Remus lifted his head and laid it back down in a way he hoped conveyed that yes, he did, but only if James was ready to tell it all. He was a patient man only to an extent.

James cracked a small smile. "Yeah, I'm ready." His smile faded and he took a deep breath. "Do you remember that old legend about the Mirror of Erised?..."

OOOOO

"You recognize the risks?" Snape confirmed as he carefully measured the misty cerulean concoction into a goblet.

Lily nodded and took the goblet. Summoning her courage, she poured the recollection potion down her throat as quickly as possible while trying not to gag at the foul taste.

She just had time to wish James were here or that she'd been calm enough to tell him she was doing it now in person instead of by note before she was sucked into the void.