The pub was alive with shouting, cat calls, and laughing, but it came to Remus' ears through a muffle. He tipped his bottle of beer back, the liquid slipping down his throat and leaving a bitter aftertaste in its wake. He hated beer and asked himself why he was even drinking in the first place, but as his brain started to process the question in a haze, he quickly remembered that he was doing it to forget. Remus sat the bottle down, the thud echoing in the nonexistent silence.

"We're not like them, you and I," Peter said from across the table, staring out the window.

"No, we're not."

It was an all too familiar conversation between them, one that stopped needing a reference point after so many years. However, Remus knew what brought this up again—knew and wanted to forget. He wondered when it had stopped being James and Sirius and Peter and Remus and became James and Sirius and Peter and Remus.

"I can't believe Prongs would agree to do something so reckless, especially since he has a family. I mean, Sirius doesn't have anything to—err, sorry, mate."

Remus waved dismissively. "It is what it is. I can't force him to trust me or want me again."

"I just think it's a bit mad of them," he added quietly.

"What you have to understand about James is that he'd rather try to fight the armies of Hell by Sirius' side than let him do it alone. Sirius is the same way. To James, Sirius is the brother he never had and always wanted. And as much as I hate to say it, James is Sirius' replacement for Regulus. Always has been."

"They would die for each other," Peter said, brow furrowed in confusion as if he didn't understand why.

"When you put it that way, it makes it sound rather romantic. But yeah, I suppose they would."

"And what about you, Remus?"

Peter had turned towards him for what seemed like the first time that night, his eyes searching desperately for Remus' answer. Remus remembered that panicked, frightened look from years ago when Peter's face was far fuller and he himself was just a tall, bag of bones. It was always like this, wasn't it—Peter searching for confirmation from Remus, as he would never dare show fear in front of the heroic James and Sirius.

"Would I die for them? No," he said and was almost frightened by how easily the answer came. "There was a time I would have in a minute, but I'm not that person anymore."

Peter's relief was apparent to Remus. "I was worried I would be the only one."

"We put a price on everything, Pete. You and I, we hold our lives in very high value, maybe so high we could be considered cowards. And James and Sirius, perhaps they put too little value on theirs."

"And that's why they're the heroes. "

"I suppose if you want to think of them like that."

"I guess that's how I've always thought of them. Put them up on a bloody pedestal, you know? They just seem to be cut from the same cloth as some of the great heroes—Odysseus, Arthur, people like that."

Remus laughed, nearly choking on his beer. "Dear Lord, don't let them hear you say that. The two of them can barely get their heads through the doorway as it is."

The comment had Peter laughing along with him. However, they soon fell into silence, staring off in different directions. Upon reflection, Remus thought that maybe Peter had it right. In his own experiences with Sirius, everything did seem sort of like a romantic tale. Sirius was handsome and smart, witty and athletic. He'd come from the aristocracy, someone born for greatness. And yet Sirius had forsaken his bloody birth right for him.

But Remus wondered where their happily ever after was. That's how the story was supposed to end, wasn't it? Why then could they barely stand to look at each other; why did they have to scrutinize every word from the other's mouth looking for truth or lies? Remus sighed.

"Is it okay to just be the bloke who just, you know, carries the hero's sword or makes his lunch because he isn't brave enough to be the hero himself? Is it okay to be the coward?" Peter asked, not able to look him in the eye.

Remus thought for a long, hard moment. He imagined Sirius leaving the following morning, imagined what he would find on his mission with James. It wouldn't be pretty, that was for certain. They would be lucky to make it out alive. A little bit of Remus wanted to go to be there with James and Sirius; it must have been the last vestiges of the Brotherhood of the Marauders he was clinging to. But he'd be worthless to them; he would worry too much about whether the next spell would be the one to strike the killing blow to James or Sirius to be of any use in a duel. He knew he wasn't brave enough to face death like they could. And so he would remain behind.

"Better a live coward than a dead hero, mate."