Chapter Text
The Three Broomsticks was louder than usual, thick with the summer sweat of a hundred Hogwarts graduates trying not to cry into their last Butterbeers. Someone was playing a Muggle guitar with three strings and a magical amplifier. It buzzed like a wasp nest. Sirius hated it. James loved it.
“There’s no way that’s a real chord,” James said, laughing into his drink.
“He’s playing with his non-wand hand,” Lily pointed out, stretching her legs beneath the table. “Give him credit for commitment.”
Sirius snorted. “Give him a silencing charm, more like.”
Remus smiled into his bottle. Not because the joke was good. It wasn’t. But Sirius looked alive again tonight. No shadows under his eyes. No tension curled between his shoulders. Just Sirius, seventeen and shining, the way he rarely let himself be.
They were tucked in the back corner booth, half-lost behind a curtain of floating ale mugs. It smelled like spilled firewhisky and buttered bread and someone’s cologne, probably James’, and the faint, ever-present scent of old magic that clung to this place like ivy.
Lily leaned forward, elbows on the sticky table. “So. Now what? You lot going to dive straight into some kind of noble heroism, or is there time for one more completely irresponsible summer first?”
James shrugged. “I already applied to the Auror’s office. Gonna track down the last few of those ‘Death Eaters’ left over from before Dumbledore defeated Tom Riddle.”
Sirius laughed. “I gotta get far away from the ‘Noble and Ancient House of Black.’” He mimed a gag.
Remus raised his eyebrows, his voice sweet and sarcastic. “What, don’t you think your mother will come around?”
That got a real laugh from all three of them. Even Sirius. It loosened something in Remus’s chest.
The night moved like slow honey from there. They told stories they already knew, ordered drinks they couldn’t afford, and let their chairs scrape too far back on the floor without caring. At some point, Peter wandered past with some ravenclaw sixth year on his arm, and Sirius gave him a lazy salute. Later, Dorcas danced barefoot on a table and got hexed by Madam Rosmerta’s cousin. It was perfect, and temporary, and everyone knew it.
Eventually, Lily declared the party dead and threatened to vanish all of their shoes if they didn’t go home. James offered his arm with mock solemnity. They left with the easy, wordless affection of people who no longer needed to say goodbye.
They Apparated to Sirius’ flat in silence. No fanfare. Just the soft pop of air and the cooler hush of London at midnight.
It wasn’t much. Just a third-floor walkup in Muggle Camden, with windows that stuck and a kettle that leaked, but it was theirs. No one screamed through the walls. No one hexed the furniture.
Sirius collapsed onto the couch like he’d been running for days.
Remus stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him. Then he moved to the window, pushed it open, and let the summer night pour in. Far below, a fox darted between rubbish bins. The stars above were faint, but they were there.
The morning came quickly. It was cold in the flat. Old floorboards, bad insulation, a single window with condensation clouding the corners. Sirius sat at the edge of the kitchen table, knees drawn up, cigarette half-burned in the ashtray beside him. He hadn’t spoken in ten minutes.
Remus was at the window. Watching the street. Watching nothing.
Outside, the sky was the color of unwashed wool. One of those endless British fogs. Damp in the bones. Grief in the walls.
Sirius broke the silence first. His voice was quiet. “I dreamt I was back there again. Grimmauld Place.”
Remus turned.
Sirius didn’t look at him. “Only it wasn’t just the house. It was them. My mother. My father. Their voices. Saying I could still come back. Still make it right.”
Remus moved toward the table, slowly.
Sirius’s hands were trembling. “They were smiling, Moony. They were proud. Of me . It made me sick.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “What if they come for me? Try to reclaim the name? I’m still the heir. By blood.”
“You’re not theirs,” Remus said, softly but firmly. “You never were.”
Remus stepped close, folded his arms around Sirius, and rested his chin on top of the crown of black curls.
Sirius pulled back and looked up at him, then something fragile flickered behind his eyes. “Don’t you ever feel it, though? Like you’ve escaped, but you’re still not free?”
Remus sat across from him. “Every day.”
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. Sirius knew about Greyback. The scars. The bite. The nightmares. But there were parts of it Remus never spoke aloud, the hunting feeling, the sense that some part of him still carried the scent of prey.
“I keep thinking he’s out there,” Remus said, voice low. “Greyback. I know he is. I can feel it. Like he’s waiting.”
Sirius leaned forward, his cigarette burning between his fingers. “We fought a war. We won. And it feels like we’re still looking over our shoulders like ghosts.”
Remus met his eyes. “That’s because we are.”
The silence sat between them like a third person. Tired. Watching.
Then Sirius spoke again. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Remus raised an eyebrow.
“London. England. Magic. All of it. Not like this. Not... in the wreckage.”
“Where would we go?” Remus asked. “It’s not like we can just vanish.”
Sirius looked down at his hands. “What if we did?”
Remus frowned. “What?”
“Leave. For real. Not just hiding. Not just surviving. Somewhere no one knows us. Somewhere quiet.”
Remus didn’t answer right away. The idea sounded like a story. A lie you tell yourself to survive another day.
But then he looked at Sirius; the twitch of his fingers, the shadow under his eyes, the boy he loved still haunted by a family that never saw him for what he was.
And Remus realized he was tired of fighting ghosts, too.
****
The next night they were out again. The bar was loud, the kind of place that had seen a hundred thousand conversations, all of them muffled by the clink of glass, the thrum of a jukebox, and the low hum of people trying to forget what they were running from. Remus leaned back in his chair, tracing the edge of his glass, while Sirius drummed his fingers on the tabletop, staring at a spot on the wall like it held all the answers.
“We need to go,” Sirius muttered, his eyes still distant. “Far away. Somewhere no one knows us. Knows any of this.”
Remus raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “I thought you liked being known, Pads. You’re the one who thrives on the spotlight.”
“Not anymore,” Sirius replied, his voice unusually serious. He stopped drumming his fingers, leaning forward with sudden intensity. “We need somewhere... ordinary. No magic. No history. Nothing. Just…” He gestured vaguely with his hand, as though painting an image in the air. “Just a normal place. Where we can breathe.”
“Normal, huh?” Remus said, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose you’ve got a place in mind?”
Sirius shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It’s got to be a place where no one cares who we are. Where we can live like Muggles. Go to Uni. Study. Get jobs. The whole deal.”
Remus paused. Hogwarts was history. The war was over, but the echoes of it still lingered, and the faces. Those never went away. If they stayed in England, they’d be stuck in the past forever.
“So, what? You’re suggesting we leave it all behind?” Remus asked, his voice quieter now, as if the words themselves held weight.
Sirius looked at him, an almost mischievous glint in his eye. “Why not? We’re young. We’ve got nothing to tie us down. I mean…” He paused, a grin creeping onto his face. “You’re not about to go all ‘responsible adult’ on me, are you, Moony? That’s not your style.”
“First of all, that is exactly ‘my style.’ I’m not about to pretend I don’t have a brain in my head, Sirius,” Remus replied, but the edge of a smile tugged at his lips. He snaked his hands up Sirius’ shirt, feeling the soft warm skin that made him feel at home. “I just…”
“Just what?” Sirius leaned forward, his voice softer, more insistent. “This is what we need. You know it, too. No magic. History. Just us. Maybe a nice little flat, a couple of roommates, and,” He waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t know. A cat.”
Remus couldn’t help but laugh. “A cat? Really? You, the one who refuses to clean up after your own messes, want a cat?”
“I’ll take care of it!” Sirius protested, but the glint in his eyes was unmistakable. “I’ll train it. It’ll be my cat. We’ll get it a little collar! Maybe a bell or something.”
“Sure,” Remus said, shaking his head, trying not to smile. “And what do we do for money, exactly?”
Sirius’s grin turned sly. “Get jobs like Muggles do, obviously. You’ll be the intellectual one. I’ll figure something out. I can work in a pub, maybe. Or... I could become a famous American Rockstar.”
Remus snorted at that, but the thought of it settled into his mind. A new life. One without fear, without the weight of magic pressing in on him at every turn.
“You want to go to the States? What about University?” Remus asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “What do you want to study?”
Sirius shrugged again. “Who knows? Maybe philosophy. Maybe I’ll get really into theater.” He stopped and looked at Remus, dead serious. “Or I could just take a class on not being a total wreck. Could probably get a degree in that.”
“You might be onto something,” Remus said with a dry chuckle. “You’ll be really popular with the professors, Pads.” There was an air of flirtation and innuendo about him.
“And you?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “What are you gonna study?”
Remus thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess I could do something with... history? Or literature. Something quiet. No spells. No potions. Just words. Maybe I’ll write a book.”
“Librarian!” Sirius said with a grin. “Maybe I’ll write my own book about the fascinating life of the world’s greatest rockstars. People will eat it up.”
Remus shook his head, amused, but something inside him shifted. The idea of it, living simply, away from everything they’d known. It felt like the right kind of madness. The kind that made him feel alive, like he could still make choices. Be who he wanted to be, even if that person was just normal .
“Alright,” Remus said, letting out a breath. “But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. No magic. Not even in the flat.”
Sirius scoffed. “Come on, Moony, you think I’m going to sit around in a flat doing dishes by hand ?”
“Muggles do have things in their kitchens, dishwashers. We can get one of those.” Remus nearly giggled at the nonsense of it.
“A Fishwater, huh?” Sirius said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m holding you to one of those.”
“Fine,” Remus said with a wink. “You get the books. I’ll get the dishwasher.”
Remus chuckled, feeling the weight of his decision settle. It wasn’t just about escaping. It was about living in a way that was theirs, without the echoes of the past shadowing every step. No more running.
They were going to make something of themselves together. They were going to live the Muggle way, whatever that meant. And maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.
“Where do we go?” Remus asked quietly.
Sirius leaned back, his eyes lighting up as he thought for a moment. “Somewhere... completely different,” he said, almost to himself. He conjured a map of the States and pushed his finger to the dead center. “How about... Lincoln, Nebraska?”
Remus blinked. “What’s Nebraska?”
Sirius grinned. “Exactly. No one would even know where it is. And there’s nothing out there to remind us of... well, anything.”
Remus let out a breath, surprised by how perfect it sounded.
“Alright,” he said finally, his lips curling into a small smile. “Let’s go to Nebraska.”
Sirius raised his glass. “To the Muggle way,” he said, his grin wide and full of possibilities.
“To the Muggle way,” Remus echoed, raising his own glass. It felt like a promise. A promise of a new life, of something different. He was fully aware that he was just chasing Sirius’ wandering heart. But a whole new place where people weren’t afraid of werewolves, and dead parents didn’t lurk around corners felt like a kindness. It felt like freedom.
****
In two weeks the flat was empty. Furniture and most of their stuff sold off. Clothes, photographs, and wands tucked tight inside two identical trunks and duffle bags. Sirius went and converted the last of his inheritance into American muggle money, and conjured up muggle passports and documents. Sirius stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the bare walls, his fingers twitching by his sides. He wasn’t sure if it was the echoing silence of the room or the fact that he was finally leaving that made him uneasy.
He wasn’t used to quiet.
“I think we’ve got everything,” Remus said, appearing at the door with a slightly crumpled list in his hands. His voice was calm, but his eyes told a different story: excited, nervous, and just a little bit unsure. He looked around the room, the remnants of their life in London, and then back at Sirius. “I’m pretty sure we’re ready.”
Sirius snorted. “Ready for what? A totally new life that doesn’t involve magic and possibly living in a barn in the middle of nowhere?” He was trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice cracked slightly at the end. He was starting to wonder if he had lost his mind.
“Could be worse,” Remus said with a small smile. He placed the list down on the counter and walked over to where Sirius was standing. “At least we’re together.”
Sirius smiled at that, a genuine, wide smile that made his eyes crinkle in the corners. “Yeah,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Together.” He reached out, resting his hand on Remus' shoulder for a moment, like it was a silent promise. They were in this together. They’d always been.
With a deep breath, Sirius grabbed his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Alright, Moony. Nebraska, here we come.”
First they went to the ministry, and took an international Portkey to Chicago. Then they got on a train for Lincoln. The ride was almost exactly as long as the Hogwarts Express. But it felt new and strange. There were endless stretches of flat, open roads, the kind that seemed to go on forever with no landmarks in sight. Sirius fidgeted with a pile of snacks he had packed. Remus had sat beside him, watching the vast landscape roll by, the golden fields stretching out beneath the endless blue sky. It felt huge and infinite to look out and see the horizon in every direction.
As they passed through small towns with names that sounded like they belonged in a Western film, Remus realized he didn’t even know what Nebraska was like. He had no expectations. No preconceptions. They were both just... here. Just existing.
By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of purple and pink, they arrived in Lincoln. It wasn’t much. Just a small college town, tucked away in the heart of the Midwest. The streets were quiet, some still made of red bricks, the air still cool from the evening, and the low hum of traffic was a distant murmur in the background.
They walked up from the train station to the nearest hotel. It’s name gilded gold across the front. “The Cornhusker Hotel” was a towering building compared to the smaller ones around it.
Remus laughed. “What the fuck is a Cornhusker?”
“I think you’re about to be mate,” he pointed to a poster of a college American football team in Scarlet and Cream. “It’s what they call the students, looks like.”
The entire place felt unremarkable in the best possible way. It was clearly trying very hard to be something special. And maybe to some muggles it was, but to them it was the most mundane place they had ever stepped. No magical wards. No whispers of ancient spells in the air. Just ordinary.
It was all oddly comforting.
Remus stood beside him, rolling his shoulders, looking at their new home. His eyes softened as he glanced at Sirius, a small, knowing smile on his face. “It doesn’t smell like magic here.”
Sirius exhaled slowly, his gaze sweeping across the empty streets. He took another deep breath, tasting the cool sweet air, feeling the weight of it settle into his lungs. It was different. Clean and simple.
“Good,” Remus said quietly, his voice steady.
For a moment, Sirius didn’t say anything. He just stood there, letting the quiet sink in. No ghosts. No nightmares. No weight on his chest. It was the kind of nothingness that could almost pass for peace.
"Yeah. Good," Sirius repeated, his voice softer now, like a weight had been lifted.
Remus turned to him, his smile more than just reassuring. It was something deeper. Something real. “We’re here,” he said, as if making sure they both knew it. “This is where we start over.”
Sirius looked at him, the glow of the streetlights casting soft shadows on his face. A sense of calm washed over him, despite the nerves still fluttering in his stomach. He reached for Remus’ hand, the familiar touch grounding him.
They stepped inside the hotel and requested a night. The room they were given smelled faintly of lemons and starch, the kind of clean that felt artificial but comforting. Remus dropped his bag by the armchair and flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling fan lazily spinning above them. “We’ll find a real place tomorrow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Sirius kicked off his shoes and joined him, curling beside him on the unfamiliar mattress. “Only if it has a view,” he muttered into Remus’ shoulder. “Of what?” Remus asked, already half-asleep. Sirius grinned against his skin. “Of those cowboy college boys. Obviously.” He winked at Remus. “And maybe another of those sunsets.”
Remus ran his fingers under Sirius’ shirt and pulled it off lazily. His hands followed the roadmap of Sirius’ body. Dancing around muscles and bone. He paused on the scar across his ribs that no Healer could ever quite erase. It was a curse, and the magic that made it was wrapped around his heart like barbed wire. Regulus had tried to protect him, stepping in front of a hex that knocked Sirius through a mirror. When he hit the floor, his mother said nothing. Just whispered, “Your fault,” and walked away. She repaired the mirror
She never repaired Sirius.