Remus Lupin never thought about himself as brave. Even thought he wears his hurt on his sleeves, he feels pretty weak for doing so. Not capable of hiding it as well as Sirius hides his. Because he knows that Sirius hurts. He sees it in his eyes every time the boy looks over that table. Over to the Slytherins. The way he gazes until he finds the well-known posture of his shadow. Fairly often, he finds himself thinking about how other people hurt. How his father used to lock everyone out until he lost himself in his pain. How the light in his mother’s eyes flickered so often when she thought no one was watching her.
He always been good at watching them. His parents. His classmates. His friends.
He’s used to their hurt. Mary’s all teeth and claws. When she’s hurt, she attacks before anyone else can use it against her. Lily’s pain is discreet and quiet. She smiles a little less brightly. She sits a little less straight. James seems to be never hurting. But that’d be a lie. When his owl comes and there’s no letter from his mum then Remus catches his affliction in his hands. How he plays with them, distracts everyone else but him from the brief emptiness that fills his face. Everyone knows when Peter’s hurt because he’s never trying to hide it. He’ll cry. He’ll squeak. He’ll roll around if needed. They never have to ask what’s going on because he’ll ramble about it for days. And if you’re the person who hurt him then he’ll glare at you with those big pitiful eyes until you sigh an half-assed apology. That’s always how it goes with Peter.
Remus finds them brave. All of them. Because they know how to deal with their pains. With the hurt. But he doesn’t think they have to feel the hurt taking control of them the way he does. They don’t have to make themselves feel less sad every morning. Don’t have to think about happy stuff every night because of the nightmares.
Besides the hurt, Remus is full of feelings. And empty at the same time. His jealousy makes him feel like shit. His happiness like a fraud. When he laughs, he always think about the time we’re he won’t be able to smile like this. Lips full of cheerfulness and his eyes almost closed. His feelings are too much. And never enough. All at once. So he watches the others to forget his own hurt. To forget that his tragedy is placated on his face. That every single person in this school, every single person in the world even, could take only a look at him and feel pitiful. Only because his hurt is so, so fucking visible.
So no, Remus doesn’t feel brave. He’s a coward, even. A pitiful coward.