Remus looks away, purses his lips, and Sirius knows it’s a thought he’s had before. What a pair they made, the werewolf and the disowned Black heir, two men who were willing to give up everything for the cause—and nearly had—but not even the war had wanted their lives. Only the good die, Sirius remembers thinking once, shivering in his cell, unfortunately human. The wretched are forced to keep on living in hell.