The house they were staying at was rented for three weeks for just that purpose. Lily's mother called it Paradise, her father called it affordable and Petunia claimed it to be in the end of the world. As far as Lily could tell, it was all the same place, and it was still in Great Britain. It was near a mountain range she was sure to be exploring, there was a little village not very far from the cottage, and that was about all she could care about.

The house was disquietingly alone in the nearby area, having similarly lonely cousins of which only two were visible from Lily's apprehensive point-of-view - she gritted her teeth and snapped out of the war-induced fear she wasn't going to contaminate her family with. It looked harmless enough, anyway – airy, campsite-like, very wooden, and it even had a porch, like a movie-perfect picture of a scene that made everyone instantly drunk with the sun because of the flashes the camera caught and the abundance of white.

The garden, at least the portion of land that was legally attached to the house, wasn't very big, but it was perfectly clear that anyone who ever owned it considered the revolving few feet part of it too, because it was too neat to be wild and yet not neat (in a random beauty sort of way) enough to have never had any sort of looking after. The trees in the woods that stood as though hunched guardians weren't very tall and the sun shone bright and unblocked at the family of four that got out of a car and dragged suitcases with them.

Lily went in quickly before Petunia remembered there were still rooms to be picked, and dropped her bags in the more secluded one, at the end of the not very long corridor that accessed the three rooms the place had on the second and tallest floor. She'd redirected any and all owls she could possibly be receiving there, because Petunia didn't like seeing them at all, so it was best if they avoided the rest of the house in the first place.

The room was small, but she'd made sure to check that it wasn't the smallest. It had a friendly-looking bed and a plain wooden closet imbedded on the wall, and Lily figured out this house hadn't been made for people staying inside. That was fine. She was far too preoccupied to stay still for three full weeks.

She unpacked and made herself home, and when she was done, the room had roughly the same appearance. She dropped to the bed and was perfectly ready to let her eyes flutter and take a nap when a sharp knock at the door forced them open. Petunia had mastered conveying her snappish attitude even over her knocking.

Lily dragged herself out of bed and to the door, opening it only a crack and hoping that let Petunia get the message. "Yes?" She asked, neutrally – say what you will, but Lily didn't deliberately seek conflict, even though her interactions with her sister tended to end that way.

Petunia eyed her very distastefully – but also not so, like she was exaggerating an emotion that, while certainly there, was second priority to another. She was plotting – Lily searched her eyes apprehensively. "Mum said we should go see the neighbourhood." She said briskly – she always said everything so quickly, like she was worried the world wouldn't wait for her if she spent too much time addressing her sister – and crossed her arms. "Only she seemed to think you were required along."

Lily grimaced. "Okay, well, you tell her I'm feeling very tired and sick from the drive and we'll both be perfectly happy-"

"No!" Petunia interjected quickly – then her cheeks filled with pink. "I mean- We oughtn't lie-" She clenched her teeth, and Lily almost let her jaw drop that Petunia was making up excuses to spend time in her company. "Besides," She continued, more composedly trying to feign terrible misfortune. "I've already told her you wanted to go out yourself."

Lily blinked. "Why would you do that? I don't want to go out. I never said I did-"

"Mum's expecting us to go." Petunia interrupted loudly. Lily was too stunned to do much more than stare and look dumb. "Get dressed and we can go."

That snapped her out of it briefly. "What? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Petunia looked her up and down. "Honestly?" She said derisively, and there, that was old Petunia again.

Lily gritted her teeth and, knowing she'd regret it, she followed her out of the room.

The population, all sixty-three people it was made up of, were terrific and very cheerful gossipers. Lily and Petunia's first stop told them all they needed to know about the newcomer twins that would make them sixty-five in, according to the most popular prediction, a week. They learned Mr. Herbert was building a fence because he was tired of Mrs. Leary's cats sneaking into his yard and ruining his contest-winning flowers, and were warned about the group of 'young delinquents' that the few children that resided in the area all belonged too, and who apparently went around committing such crimes as skateboarding without protection and violating curfews their parents had not imposed, which was mightily irresponsible of the latter.

Petunia lashed out about it in that snobbish way she favoured whenever she was referring to people belonging to isolated communities as soon as they stepped out, and Lily was just glad that her sister was too normal to yell on the street, because she was sure they'd left with a positive impression and she didn't want to ruin it until the following day at the earliest.

They stopped for an original and unnamed local pastry that sold really well – Petunia had stiffly paid for her sister's – and she got Lily to, somehow, miraculously, relax much further around her than she'd been able to in years. Which should really have been her first clue.

"Without original secret ingredients too, I hope." Petunia had said under her breath, eying the cake suspiciously. She managed to make Lily laugh, and Petunia wasn't funny, though granted, she wasn't laughing at what she said as much as she was laughing at Petunia herself.

Still, Lily was going through a war where being overly suspicious could save her life.

Just when her paranoia was reaching levels high enough that she'd soon bring it up herself, however, Petunia made it perfectly clear why she'd wanted Lily for a few hours. "So, the Wiz- the Wiza- the people with the sticks are having it out, are they?" She asked – it was very out-of-the-blue and very blunt; she mentioned it exactly when Lily was feeling as though she was ten again and Petunia didn't call her a freak, and Lily was startled and dismayed Petunia had, in fact, read her newspaper.

She instantly became defensive and dishonest. "What d'you mean?"

Petunia glanced at her uncomfortably, like she was embarrassed to be talking about such a taboo. "I- The weird paper, it- it said some nasty things." She said through clenched teeth. "I was really only making conversation. I don't care. But since mum forced us to come together-"

"Oh, quit it." Lily snapped furiously. "Mum didn't make you do anything at all!" She was overly angry, which felt like the price for that moment of vulnerability with her big sister who existed only in her mind still. "What gave you the right-"

"Muggle is a freak synonym for normal, isn't it?" Petunia started, ignoring her, as if pretending she was talking to herself only helped drive away the unpleasantness the subject brought along.

"Petunia-"

"Because that article mentioned an awful lot about Muggles." She continued. "About- about killings-" She faltered. Lily's fingers were trembling as she brushed her hair away from her feverish face. Of course this was the only reason Petunia was acting so odd – she wouldn't ever be pleasant to Lily unless she got a very big scare. "It was crazy talk, though, I expect, obviously, wasn't it? I- Really, it actually used the word 'war', so it-"

But Lily's pursed lips were keeping quiet, because she couldn't come up with a decent excuse and maybe, desperately, deep down, she needed someone – anyone – to be listening for just once, somebody else to worry about her family – all of them older than her – someone else to put aside long-term plans out of fear she wouldn't be around to carry them out-

Lily broke eye contact with her sister, who was clearly working herself into a state following Lily's uncooperative lack of answer. Like a deflating balloon that had expanded too quickly in a burst of rushing air, Lily came to her senses. "No, of course not." She shoved her way past her sister with a forced laugh that was supposed to make the idea sound ridiculous. "That's mad. Honestly, you've watched one late night drama too many. Does it look as though I pack off to war every year?"

Lily could see the house – Petunia had taken her while to bring the real reason for this stroll up, perhaps because she thought a couple of hours were enough to mollify over six years (and maybe Lily didn't give her enough credit, because she'd clearly been almost right) of callousness and disrespect – and she could hear her sister's high heels clinking along madly, hurrying to catch up behind her. She quickened her pace – only to stop abruptly when she did get inside.

In retrospect, she really should have thought to owl Remus and ensure James Potter would be doing something perfectly safe and non-Lily-related for the duration of her vacation. The best way to avoid James, she'd realized roughly three years ago when he first started stalking her, was to stalk him right back. She needed to know exactly where he'd be so she could avoid being there too. Of course, one could argue that there was no way for her to know he'd sweet-talked where they'd be staying out of her mother, or that he'd think it acceptable of him to follow her there.

It was a moot point now, because James was animatedly chatting to her mother on Lily's living room, perfectly comfortable and holding a chagrined Remus by his side. She'd likely as not misjudged the actual amount of control the latter had on the first.

Her mother was laughing because James had seemingly just made a hysterical joke about the Giant Squid (which her mother would be hearing about for the first time – sure enough, her eyes were a bit too wide, her expression overwhelmed), right up until Lily cleared her throat and wondered very hard how she was going to disassemble the party.

Remus looked very relieved and just as worriedly guilty, which fuelled her self-righteous indignation very well indeed. "Hello." She said, a bit awkward and a bit irritated. "What's going on?"

Her mother beamed at her. "You have a very charming young man for a friend, Lily." He wished.

Lily eyed James grinning expression distastefully. "I- Do I?" She asked warily. "I mean, of course I do. Could I have a word with you, outside?" She requested through gritted teeth. "Both of you?" She glared a challenge for the two boys to say no.

"What," She said, after she'd dragged them away from her mother's protests and past Petunia's bulging eyes (she didn't tolerate sharing a house with abnormality, much less with abnormality's guests) "pray tell, do you think you're doing?"

"Lily, I'm very sorry." Remus apologized instantly. "I didn't know where he was taking me, and then your mother insisted we stay for tea-"

"Mrs. Evans is a very nice lady." Potter wasted no time in telling her brightly. "And she makes these scones-"

"I've tried, but I think it's too late to instil the notion of personal space unto him." Remus interrupted with a glare, and Lily forgave him.

She rounded on James.

"Alright, you know what, I've had it." She exploded. "I don't know what's been up with you this past month. You've been mad all your life, I'm sure, and you've been mad for the past six years for sure – I can attest to that. But you've not once done something like this." She gestured behind her. "Where did you even get my address? Or rather, my addresses, because this is my vacation?!"

Remus seemed even more horrified at this. Lily started to wonder what Potter had told him. James waved her protests away impatiently. "Well, obviously, because you don't seem to have realized there's a mass massacre going on in England which just so happens to focus on Muggleborns." He shrugged, saying all this very casually. "I have a rather vetted interest in keeping people alive. Particularly you."

She ignored that. Partially. "I don't need anyone looking after me! Especially not you!"

James scowled, crossing his arms. "Oh, really? According to Sirius, Bellatrix didn't agree."

Lily's eyes flashed, and Remus looked like he'd effectively spotted the danger, which either James was ignoring or enjoying. He stepped in. "Alright, alright – that's quite enough for both of you." Remus said, pushing them apart. "James, this is the last time I'm coming with you on a holiday." He hissed, now only to Potter.

Unfortunately, that set Lily off all over again. "You what?!" She shrieked. "You're not staying here, are you?!"

Remus winced, and she groaned. "What is the matter with you?" She asked Potter, who at least looked a little sheepish. "You and Remus randomly decided to spend the summer here for – how long?" She asked abruptly.

"Remus, Sirius, Peter and I." He corrected, perfectly calm and happy. "And for as long as you do. Your mother only told me where you'd be, you know."

Lily was rather capable of a lot of things, but she'd never actively plotted and considered murder-

Remus hurriedly tried to do what he usually did and fix whatever mess Potter had made up this time. "Lily, James was just-"

She interrupted him before he had the chance. "You know, Potter, I'm seventeen now. That means Hogwarts and the Ministry don't have to pretend to disapprove of me hexing you outside school anymore."

James was opening his mouth, perhaps to say something that would challenge and encourage her through sheer stupidity, but Remus shushed them both with a scowl. "Shut up. Now." He turned to Lily, looking regretful. "Lily, I'm very sorry about this. From now on, I'll try to keep James collared and leashed-" He ignored the sounds of protest. "Fact is, he invited us three to stay with him for a vacation, and I don't think any of our parents are expecting us sooner-"

"For crying out loud, I'm not going to force you to go home, Remus-" Lily muttered.

He grinned abashedly, and Lily condemned the fates for the friends he had once again. "I daresay, anyway, that Sirius would probably be the only one who knew why he really got it into his head to come here. I'm sorry," He repeated. "I'll see that he doesn't bother you – or your mother – too much."

"Lily's mother likes me!" James said indignantly. "She was perfectly fine talking to me just now-"

But that was just another thing for Lily to get riled up about.

"My mother's a Muggle." Lily said very slowly, as she was starting to realize that was the only way James seemed to understand her.

"So? What difference does that make?" He answered, a bit defensively. Lily caught on.

"It doesn't! That's not my point at all!" She said exasperatedly. "I just meant- Don't just talk to her like - like you're talking to Black about the Chuddley Cannons! She's not- That's not her normal, James." She clenched her teeth very hard to keep form saying anything further – she was both afraid of what she might overshare with him and of starting another fight, which she suddenly didn't feel like having again.

And the worst was that it was like he guessed it – he stared too long with warm brown eyes. Remus looked between the two of them slightly suspiciously. "Why not?" James finally said. "You're her daughter, aren't you? Won't she want to know more about your world?"

"That's the problem, don't you see?" She said, a bit snappish. "I'm not part of her world anymore, and she's not part of mine. It's not that simple."

The silence stretched for a while, and Lily flushed. James looked a little put-out, and Remus was clearly nonplussed.

"I'm going home." She said suddenly, breaking the quiet as effectively as a shrill banshee. She glanced at the sky. "It's getting a little late. We've been out here for a while. You should go too." She turned and hoped the clipped voice made them follow the short orders.

For the brief ten seconds she spent walking toward her house (and the window curtains slam shut unexpectedly), she thought they had – then she heard Remus call her name.

When she turned she was a little relieved to see that, at least, he was alone. She spotted a hunched retreating back, already in the distance. Remus approached, but didn't go up to the porch. "It's really alright, Remus, just as long as he doesn't-" She started, assuming he was trying to apologize again.

But he shook his head and cut her short. "No, it's not about that, though I'm still sorry-" He sighed. "It's about what happened last Easter."

Lily stiffened automatically, and Remus winced. She made her way down to him, looking over her shoulder towards the self-shutting window nervously. This was not for eavesdropping ears.

"Yeah, I know it's not-" He said, looking resigned. He shook his head. "Anyway, I had some suspicions after we talked in the Hospital Wing-" He hesitated.

She sighed. "I noticed, Remus." She hadn't been able to get a single word of explanation out of him afterwards. "Am I about to hear about the complete uncovering of You-Know-Who's entire operation?"

Remus rubbed his neck, insecure. "Not nearly, no. I don't even know where the puzzle's bits and pieces I've managed to put together go, nor even which puzzle it is. That's actually part of the reason I'm telling you this only now."

"And the rest of that reason?" She said, putting her best efforts into delaying the actual conversation they were to have.

He grimaced. "I'm terrified of what James and Sirius might get into their heads to do. I need backup, and Peter's not going to cut it."

"Okay." She said slowly. In a very weird, Marauder sort of way, it made sense. "Is that why this is coming up now?"

"Yeah, of course." He lied quickly. Lily stared but didn't comment. "Also, if you wouldn't mind not telling them about this-"

"Of course not."

"Right. Well," He paused. "you remember – how Voldemort seemed interested in James?"

Lily huffed, for some reason. "Not that interested-" She began hotly.

"Yes, I know." Remus interrupted warily. "You've said-"

"He seemed to be just throwing things out there." She continued, unable to help herself. "It wasn't like he really thought he'd be able to turn James around-"

"Yes." He interrupted again, now looking intent. "That in itself is rather strange, isn't it? But just the fact that he tried to draw him in at all – why? What good would James be to him?"

"I suppose-" Lily said slowly and reluctantly. "I suppose he'd want a spy in the Order-"

"James had never even heard of the Order by then, though." Remus interrupted. "How could Voldemort?" Lily gave her head a moment's pause. Remus kept going. "Except – he might have known something else. Something you said, back then – that James was a Gryffindor through and through. I think that anyone who knew him, even an acquaintance – maybe not even that – they'd agree with you."

"So?" She frowned. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well – that and the fact that James hasn't exactly kept secret what his opinion on the matter of the war is-" He trailed off. "Someone might make the obvious logical jump between that and knowing he'd very likely join some sort of counter-Voldemort organization as soon as anyone let him. Voldemort could have known this, couldn't he? And he thought, here lies my chance of having a source of information in the Order. Maybe James has a strong resolve – and then again, maybe he doesn't, or so Voldemort would have thought, and he took the chance."

"That's a bit far-fetched, isn't it?" Lily said, shocked.

"Maybe." Remus conceded. "Or maybe it's just a really scary possibility that anyone would want to call far-fetched. I've had- too much time to mull over this alone, Lilly. And you forget – Voldemort didn't rise to power by doing the obvious."

"Well, but how could he have known – what, James' personality traits?" Lily challenged, a bit more subdued – but there was a shrewd look in Remus eyes.

"Exactly."

And it hit her, so fully and so incredibly breathtakingly ugly, that not all of reality was white and pink, and for Voldemort to exist, someone would have to have thought of the black. Are you the bitch? Bellatrix had known – she'd known they were Animagus, though not who they were. Somehow, the Death Eaters knew not only of this little school gang's existence, they also knew of their inner secrets.

"There's someone passing information – a- a spy. At Hogwarts." She said quietly.

"I know." Remus answered, and he bowed his head to the silence that followed.

"Oh." She murmured. But she shook herself out of it, because she couldn't afford to lose her mind a little bit further – it was nearing its edge as it was. "Okay. So there's someone telling Voldemort about- things inside the castle." She told him tersely. She couldn't waste emotions on this – she'd used them all up on just about everything else. "Why? What's his interest? Students couldn't tell them much about Dumbledore, or any other Professor that might be in the Order. And I doubt one of the teachers is the spy – who's the teacher that knows anything of worth about any student? And besides – if we assume this- this person exists, what's Voldemort's use for another spy in James?" She said all this very fast, almost worried that he'd forget something important, but Remus was nodding along, perfectly serious. He had the answers ready.

"Because maybe this person only counts as far as inner-Hogwarts matters go." He said. "Maybe he – or she – is someone who is by no means part of the Order, or going to be part of the Order. And- and I reckon it's a student, Lily." He eyed her nervously. "Maybe more than one. And I don't think Dumbledore's the one Voldemort wants spied. I believe it's about the students, Lily, I think – I think this is about using the fresh, impressionable young minds leaving Hogwarts, ready to be picked up by him. And those he sees can get into the Order-"

"He turns them into spies." She said flatly.

"Tries to." Remus corrected. "I do still have faith in our classmates."

"Yes, well, a fair few of them seemed to be amused by that faith last Easter." She snapped.

Lily was angry – at all this – the theory Remus had webbed and not shared was so complex, so reliant on the cold manipulation of a single individual – and yet – she didn't doubt it, not for a second. It made such incredibly nasty, horrible sense – it almost had to be true, just by the horror movie principle. Voldemort was making Hogwarts a training facility – or, rather, because she had caught on to what Remus meant by 'more than one', he was making Slytherin House a training facility – his personal shrine.

"Shouldn't we be telling Dumbledore about this?" She asked, stained with a desperation and helplessness she couldn't keep out of her voice.

"You're assuming Dumbledore doesn't know." Remus pointed out. "In my experience, what Dumbledore doesn't know is rarely enough to fill a sentence. And even if he didn't – if Voldemort's followers' blunt-headed ways were going unnoticed under his nose –what's he supposed to do? Chuck all the Slytherins out of the school?"

"I hate logic." She murmured, watching the idea that someone perfectly capable would deal with this problem before she had to witness its consequences fly away.

Remus offered her a thin smile. "It's often misunderstood."

"So we don't tell Dumbledore. Fine." She gritted her teeth. "Voldemort turned to James because someone told him he'd be likely to join the Order – because he makes a point of announcing his life to the whole castle." Lily kept thinking, because logic was uncharacteristically the least complicated option she had on the table right then. "Only You-Know-Who didn't seem much convinced – I don't blame him, you need only look at James to know he'd become a Death Eater only when they start waving and smiling and kissing babies' cheeks-" There was a vindictive pleasure in her voice as she said this. "And-"

"And he's going to try again." Remus took over quietly. "Probably with someone else. And not everybody has got James' nerve."

"Or he's done so already – he's found a spy, and now he's just covering all his bases. He wasn't all that invested in Potter." Lily repeated – this point seemed important. She hugged herself and wished to forget, so she changed the subject. "Speaking of whom – you didn't send him away, did you?" She was suddenly anxious at the ideas that might run through James' head.

Remus shrugged and went along with the new topic. "No, he wanted to go. Just as well, because I needed to tell you this. He was fairly certain you didn't want him here right about now, anyway." Remus grinned. "He means well, James. But I think you knew that."

She crossed her arms uncomfortably. "I suppose you wouldn't have a theory on why Voldemort left so quickly, too?" She asked, preferring diverting the subject to actually thinking about it, and also vaguely hopeful the answer might be yes.

But Remus, unconvincingly and looking as though he were debating something with himself very hard, shook his head slowly. She wouldn't get it out of him that night, she knew, so she gave up. "And the someone – someones – passing information?"

She didn't know why she was asking this – it was masochism, she was sure – she knew the answer, and sure enough-

"I'm sorry, Lily." Remus said softly, half regretfully, which she appreciated. "That curse – it's called Sectumsempra, if memory doesn't fail me - James and Sirius have ended up in the Hospital Wing so often because of it, Madam Pomfrey considered giving them the medicine and charms they needed to mend it themselves. Then she remembered who they were, though." He added hastily at Lily's look. "I expect Snape has widespread its use."

She flinched – she couldn't help it, even after a full year. She usually avoided having her thoughts linger on Snape, and this was why. "He spent a lot of time with Avery and Mulciber when they were at school still." Her voice was a little hoarse.

Remus looked like he was wishing he'd never mentioned it at all. "I'm sure he's not- he's not a-"

"A Death Eater?" She murmured. "No, surely not." She couldn't tell if her voice expressed sarcasm or hope, but Remus sighed.

"I'm- really sorry about all this. I should really have done something during the O.W.L.'s-"

He sounded guilty. She frowned. "What're you talking about?"

He looked a little stumped. "I just thought – if you were still his friend, he might have had some sort of good influence – and James – well, we rather messed that up-"

"Oh, come now, Remus." She said impatiently, and tried to pretend it wasn't shakily too. "If Se- Snape didn't want to be helped, there was nothing I or anybody else could have done to stop him. He's a grown man, it's his life and it's his decisions. Lord knows he's not the only one to have to make them. If it hadn't – hadn't been what happened, it would have been something else, and I'd have stopped trying to be his friend anyway. He was long gone by the time I noticed. And James-" She hesitated. "You all made him do nothing. James didn't walk up to the bloke and tell him to call me a Mudblood-" Remus winced. "He was antagonizing him, sure – blame him all you want for that – and, yes, you should have done something then, and I should have done something too many times to count before that, but I didn't want to open my eyes and I paid for it. But it doesn't matter. In the end, no one's to blame for Snape's choices but himself, because he's a person just like everybody else, and everybody else doesn't make him who he is."

The whole thing came tumbling from her lips like she was venting against the winds about something that was plaguing her the same way it was plaguing Remus, but which she'd clearly put a lot more thought into. Perhaps she'd needed to say it aloud to be personally assured of it – and still the doubts lingered. It wasn't easy, forgiving herself for not fixing everything.

"Let's just – not talk about it anymore." Remus gave in tersely. "I'm sorry I brought it up in the first place."

"It's okay." Lily admitted. "I think I needed to get all of that off my chest."

"I understand." Remus said, smiling a little more relaxed smile, and Lily decided to take advantage of their newfound camaraderie.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you." She said slowly. Bringing up Hogsmeade hadn't reminded her of unpleasant memories only, and her curiosity tended to stay with her for months. Besides, this was the first time she'd had the opportunity of speaking alone to Remus properly. "The four of you – you're very close, aren't you?"

Apprehensively, Remus nodded. "I know I'm telling you this when I haven't even told them, but it's really only because they're mad-"

"No, I know." Lily interrupted quickly. "That's not- I mean, what I was wondering wasn't that – it's about the Animagus business." She plunged ahead. "They said they hadn't told you?" It came out as more of a question than she had meant it to.

Remus spent a while silent, staring at her with guarded eyes – she'd never noticed until then how that seemed to be the rule when it came to him, and the time he spent with the rest of the Marauders the exception. "No." He said at last. "They didn't."

She waited, but he wasn't forthcoming. Remus seemed awkward, and Lily felt very interfering, but she had had a nasty suspicion and so she pressed on. "Why? If the three of them did it – you're the Marauders - why not you?"

Remus shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. They, uh, probably thought I'd try and stop them. They did tell me eventually." He added weakly.

Lily gave it a moment's pause. "Remus, is this about you being a werewolf?"

She wasn't as shocked about those words as he was, but it was close. "W- what?" He gasped.

Lily shifted nervously. "I- You disappear once a month, I mean, it wasn't hard to– And, well, one of the times it happened I saw you on the grounds through the windows with Pomfrey and I was doing an essay on lycanthropy for Madison at the time, had a lunar chart in front of me-"

"Lily." Remus clearly saw her agitation. "It's- alright. You, uh, put two and two together – got four. That's not a crime..."

"But- I-" But she could not think to say anything else. Remus looked downright miserable, with a fake smile a stranger could have seen through.

The quiet was no longer comfortable, and she itched to break it or break something else, if only it would make him lose that expression. She was feeling terrible, and the subject change from Snape had clearly benefitted her only as much as it had pained him.

In the end, she didn't have to break anything. Remus seemed to steel himself for this. "Lily, I – See, you need to understand that from a very young age, I've not had any proper contact with other human beings. I appreciate you taking this calmly and – Well, as it is, I'm not- safe, and I know what you're going to say, I know Dumbledore never ought to have let me into a castle full of young people-"

"Wasn't going to say that at all-" She protested, but he didn't look as though he'd heard her.

"And – and – James and Sirius and Peter were – are – cleverer than they let on. They not only figured it all out – very quickly, I might add – they hid from me something they thought of as a – ah - nice surprise." Remus paused for a second then – his expression was clouded and his eyes were conflicted, but she could see how much it had meant to him, what his friends had done. Even – especially – considering how dangerous, illegal, it was.

She knew that, because it wasn't hard – that sliver of suspicion - the way it had suddenly gone from Remus missing at full moons to all four of the boys disappearing and looking exhausted in the mornings, for over two years now – she knew. She knew what they'd done – why they'd done it-

"They – they're good friends and very good people. And I still don't know whether that was good or bad back then, but they-" He stuttered to a stop.

Lily filled in. "Became Animagi because werewolves don't tend to attack animals." Remus winced, but then all of him became very still. "They've been keeping you company during the full moons. Am I wrong?" She prodded gently.

Remus sat down on the steps that led to her (temporary) porch and she did too. "No." He sighed. "You must think we're being incredibly reckless fools-"

"Well, yes." She admitted. "But I'm usually thinking that anyway. Remus," She said warily. "I- I'm not in any place to berate you on the matter-"

Remus offered her a tiny smile. "You were when you found out about it in the first place."

She flushed. "Yes, but I've since remembered there's barely anything you four won't do. And I'm fairly sure the shock's wearing off. Either way," She continued. "yes, I do reckon you're putting them in danger-" Here, Remus flinched, and she felt guilty until he opened his mouth.

"Not only them." He blurted out. "We- we go out on the grounds those nights." Lily's eyes widened. "I don't even know what comes over me – when I'm on my own, it sounds like a terrible idea, and I always decide to call it off, but then I talk to Sirius and James and they always laugh at my worries, so I relax-"

"Remus..." Lily groaned.

"I know." He said quickly. "I know. But-"

"But you're secretly just as mad as they are, aren't you now?" She admonished. "Honestly, I used to have faith in you. You're still a Marauder, and I tend to forget it..." But she was protesting less than she would have if Remus didn't look so guiltily aware already. She avoided his gaze and switched topics. "Is there a full moon, in the next few weeks?"

She heard him shuffle. "Yes – but you needn't worry. I won't be here then, I'll be home." There was a faint, but bitter, hollowness in his voice. Lily cringed.

"That's not-" She took a breath. "Remus, I didn't mean that I was worried you'd just decide to run around free and dangerous, I-" She shook her head. "Never mind. You know, you- you're infuriating. There are a plenty of things to feel miserable about in this world already, and you shouldn't make your life one of them. You've got three great friends who've proven to you already your- condition is no good reason to keep away from other people. I'd like to believe I'm a fourth, and you should take into consideration that I spent a year knowing about this secret you manage to hide so well and I didn't feel as though I had any need to change my behaviour towards you." She hugged his side. "Plus, I do like to pride myself that I have better morals than Sirius Black, you know. I don't know why you'd think I'd condemn something he rightly defends."

Remus smiled weakly, but she preferred that to the fake one that preceded it. "I-" He stood up, appearing almost too embarrassed to even look her in the eye. He shook his head. "Thank you, Lily. You – all of you, James, Sirius, Peter – you're better friends than I deserve." He walked down the stairs too fast – almost as though he were running away – Lily stopped him.

"Remus-" She called him exasperatedly, standing up too. "Please, just – Snape was a person like everybody else in the sense that he had freedom to make his own choices; you're a person like everyone else because you have freedom not to let everybody else make your choices for you. You are who you are, and that'd be nobody's business. If there comes a time where you need to know that, do remember you didn't want friends and you got them anyway, and lycanthropy didn't come into play, then or now or in-between."

Remus turned fully then, and though it was very dark, his eyes were still two little white shinnies glued to his silhouette, which blended almost seamlessly with the black woods behind him. In a burst of lucidity she wondered why her mother hadn't come outside to check on them (then she remembered the curtains). "Lily-" He seemed lost for words, but then he found the last ones she'd ever expect. "James really does like you, you know. It's because of these things you sometimes say without even meaning to - I'm willing to bet he could easily quote them all back to you." And then he left, without saying another word, walking towards one of the houses she could see from hers.

She went to bed without knowing whether she'd made the right impression on him, without knowing what he'd meant and without knowing why that made her so nervous. And she was nervous - enough not to notice a pair of young wide eyes glittering along in the starless summer dark like Remus' had, vanishing only when they agreed with their corresponding ears that there'd be no more happening that needed to be seen or heard that night.