They’d all had grand ideas about what things would be like when they left school; they’d fight in the war, win it quickly of course, come out the other side as heroes and spend their 20s having loads of fun and being wildly successful. The reality of the war wasn’t quite what they’d expected. There were no grand battles, their enemy functioned mostly by killing people in the night in their homes, their work was mostly dealing in information, spying, comforting family members, following up mostly useless leads... Remus trusted Dumbledore implicitly, he was the first person that had ever tried to give him a chance at a normal life, but even he was starting to feel a bit hopeless about the whole thing. Remus himself had had additional issues; being at Hogwarts for so long with friends that accepted him for who he was, it had almost been possible to forget what the real world was like for people like him. He was legally required to disclose his status as a werewolf to any potential employers or landlords and as a result he had curiously found himself being rejected for jobs that had originally seemed enthusiastic to have him and from any flats he attempted to rent. He’d been working odd muggle jobs, something that was made difficult by his schedule with the Order and his need to have time off around the moon, and had moved in with Sirius, who had inherited a flat from his uncle and insisted that he could stay as long as he wanted.