Explanation: Okay, this chapter will basically be one of my shortest as well. Prehaps I should have combined it with chapter two, but I really didn't feel like it. Enjoy, and much longer chapters are on the way.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or RENT. They belong to Jk. Rowlings and Johnathan Larson (May he Rest in Peace) They are the brains around the characters. Not me. Pity.

Chapter 3

An hour past. Two hours. Three.

It was now three and a half hours since he'd called Roger, and had been told that Benny, whoever he was, would be picking him up. He'd been sitting on the curb for three and a half hours.

It was times like these he wished he'd taken up smoking. At least it would have been something to do.

He'd called Roger's number six times in the past few hours, but there was no answer. He idolly wonder if he'd gone out, or if what he'd herd on the phone last time had escalated into a more serious endevour.

"Ack, no, Remus, don't think that... You really don't need to think about that right now." He mumbed, tapping his raw temple with an equally raw hand, as if trying to dislodge an image.

" Trying to cause damage?" Someone asked over his shoulder. Remus instinctively grabbed his wand, and turn.

The spokes of a bicycle glittered in lamplight cast from the nearest post. Flecks of bluish paint was practically crowded out by rust, and the fram of the entire thing looked a little bent out of shape. Following a ripped-jean pantleg upwards, he stared into the face of a shortish, tann-skinned man, who looked down on him with a smallish smile.

"Really." Remus replied to this. "Well I better stop. Don't want to add brain damage to my current list."

"You okay, man?" Bicycle man asked, his foot, which had been poised on the pedal, comming off to support the rest of the rider's body.

"Cold. Forgotten. I'm supposed to be waiting for a...a friend to come pick me up."

The grin grew wider. "Oh, so your waiting are you. When was this friend of your supposed to pick you up?"

"Four hours ago."

"That would explain why I've been out for three and you've been sitting here ever time I've come by?"


"You know where you going? I could help you get a cab there?"

"Don't worry. I wouldn't have anything to give the guy. "

" I could tell which direction to walk? It'll warm you up, at least?"

Remus was going to say no, but decided against it. Walking would be better than sitting a freezing his ass off, even if Roger'd advised against it.

" Don't know the address. It's an industrial building though."

" There's alot of those in this area. Sure you can't give me anything else to work with?"

Remus though for a moment. "I think it's somewhere up around Avenue B. "

"Ahh, that's easier then. I'll follow you there: I live in that area anyways."

"Uhh...thanks?" Remus replied, unsure if there was anything else he should say anything else, even turn back the offer.

"Don't mention it!" Bicycle man added, the beaming smile still ever-present. As he set off at a sluggish speed on his ten-speed. Against the last of his better-judgement, and his friend's words of caution, he followed.


"Mind me asking what you're doing here in Alphabet city?" Asked the man after two blocks of silence, tilting his head and looking to all the world like a dog who'd heard a curious noise.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're probably not a local, right? One, you had no frigging clue where you were going , which, isn't so strange, when you look at how a good deal of of people here tend to get eithr piss-drink or higher than a kite on a Friday night to celebrate. But locals, even invalid ones, pretty much no better than to be sitting on the curb at eleven at night."

"That obvious, was I."

"Moreso. But I figured I'd cut you a bit of slack."

"I moved here from London-"


"No, England. I'm visiting a friend for a bit. Things back home arn't so good. Needed a vacation..." He trailed off.

Remus started as a strange electronic beep went off from somewhere close by. The bike stopped for a moment, and the cyclist fumbled for something, swearing under his breath.

After a moment, the cylist started off again, speaking again, but hos voice sounding strange...almost weary.

"I know what you mean. But I don't understand why you'd come here for a vacation, of all places. Most people want to move out of here, not move in."

Remus recodnised the tone in his voice: it was one he usually used. " You being one of them, right?"

Though he could no longer see his face, a dry, humorless laugh reached his ears, and Remus could imagine the smile fading off his face. " Right."

"Are you alright?"

Now came a heavy sigh." Yes. As good as I can be, I guess. I just need time. It's supposed to heal all wounds."

Silence stood between them for a few moments, with only the clicking of spokes, footsteps, and the faint cooing of sleepy pidgeons to puncuate it. Remus bit his lip, but he broke the silence first.

" One of my friends used to say that time doesn't always work. I guess he's really right now: waited a little to long."

Silence. "This the friend you're staying with?"

"No, another one, back home, or her used to be..."

"Where is he now?"

" Tryllium graveyard in Wiltshire."

" Shit. Sorry man."

Remus winced. " He had a gone one though."

The harsh laugh was back, and Remus wonder why a sound like that could really come from the happy face he'd looked into under the streetlamps a few moments before. Just in case, he glanced over his shoulder as the man spoke.

" How could he have a good one? He's dead? It's not a good one when you die!"

Remus couldn't believe how the man had just spoken of Jame's death so bluntly. " You didn't even know him! You're right, he died. But that's all you're right about. He didn't give a fuck when he died, and he lived the way he wanted to. Therefore, it was a good one."

" But what if doing the things you want to do-"

"You just do them!" Remus nearly screamed, and he was a little pleased to see the man recoil. " Because if you don't you might as well be dead already!"

Remus stopped, fuming, as he looked up at the streetsign above. Illuminated in the crecent moonlight, he could make out the street name: Avenue B.

"This is my stop. Is there anything I could do for you?"

"N-no." The man replied. " I'm-I'm good."

Remus felt a odd satisfaction at the hesitation in his voice. It was as if he felt justified at defending James' words. As Remus headed down the street a way, he turned back, to see the cyclist once more, lit up by the streetlamp as the sign had been. His smile was not there, but nor did he look angry. He looked, perplexed, and he didn't seem to notice that'd he'd turned around, although it looked as if he were still looking at his diminishing and darkening form as he moved on.

Turning once more to the front, Remus turned to look at the street ahead and at the tall, dirty buildings around him. He didn't look back again.