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They were in New York for a week, on what James had declared a “proper Muggle holiday.” No wands, no magic, no plan beyond seeing everything and spending too much money. Lily and Peter had gone off for the day– something about museums and “real culture”– so the hotel room was left to the other three.
The air conditioning hummed unevenly. Sirius was stretched across one of the beds with a magazine over his face, James sat cross-legged on the carpet trying to tame his hair in the reflection of the window, and Remus was buttoning his shirt when he said, mostly to himself, “Haven’t had a Twinkie in years.”
James glanced up. “A what?”
“A Twinkie,” Remus said. “Little sponge cakes. Yellow. Cream in the middle. You can get them in corner shops here.”
Sirius lifted the magazine just enough to look at him. “That sounds dreadful.”
“They’re not,” Remus said. “Or at least, they didn’t use to be.”
James grinned. “Then we’re getting one.”
Remus turned. “We don’t need to–”
“We do,” James said, already standing. “Lets enjoy the culture.”
Sirius groaned, sitting up. “If its inedible I’m blaming both of you.”
Outside, the heat hit them immediately. The city was loud and bright, full of horns and street chatter and the smell of something frying.
Sirius squinted against the sun. “It’s like walking through soup.”
“You could have left the leather jacket at home,” Remus said.
“Never,” Sirius replied. “It’s essentially part of me.”
James checked a folded map as they walked, pretending he knew where he was going. “There’s a bodega two blocks down. We’ll start there.”
“Start?” Remus asked. “It’s one snack, James.”
“You never know what else we’ll find,” James said cheerfully.
They passed a fruit stand, a man selling magazines, a woman walking three tiny dogs in matching bows. Sirius stopped to watch a street vendor flip pretzels. “This country’s insane,” he said, sounding almost impressed.
Remus smiled. “That’s half the fun.”
The bodega was cool inside and smelled faintly of coffee and detergent. A bell chimed as the door shut behind them.
Sirius looked around, wide-eyed. “This is fantastic.”
“It’s a shop,” Remus said.
“Yes, but it’s so American,” Sirius said, already reaching for a bottle of something bright green.
James guided him down an aisle. “Focus, Pads. We’re on a mission.”
Remus found the shelf almost immediately. “Here,” he said, holding up a small packet.
Sirius leaned closer, unimpressed. “That’s what we came for?”
“Yes.”
“It’s practically glowing.”
James peered at the wrapper. “There’s no way this is real food.”
Remus took it to the counter anyway. The cashier barely looked up at the boys.
“Just this?” she asked.
“Just the one,” Remus said.
James paid, still squinting at the unfamiliar bills. “How does anyone tell these apart?” he muttered.
Sirius clapped him on the back. “You’re doing great, Prongs.”
They stepped back into the sun. Around the corner, there was a bit of shade beside a newspaper stand, so they stopped there.
Remus opened the wrapper carefully. The smell was faintly sweet, familiar in a strange way.
James leaned against the wall. “Go on then.”
Sirius crossed his arms. “We walked twenty minutes for this moment.”
Remus took a bite. It was soft, a little artificial, but somehow comforting. He tore off a piece and passed it to James, who chewed once and made a face.
“Twinkies are so gross, mate.”
“Really?” Remus said. “I liked Twinkies as a kid, I think.”
“Very evident,” Sirius said, smirking.
Remus blinked, halfway through another bite. “Wait—hey!”
Sirius laughed, loud and unrestrained. James nearly dropped the wrapper from laughing too.
Remus sighed, but he was smiling. “You’re both fucking idiots.”
“Can’t disagree there.” James said, still grinning.
They wandered for a while after that. The Twinkie didn’t last long, and neither did the conversation about it. Sirius darted into a record shop after spotting a Bowie poster in the window. James followed, whistling. Remus waited outside, watching people rush past with iced drinks and shopping bags.
When Sirius reemerged, he was holding a paper bag and looking smug.
“What’d you buy?” James asked.
“‘Young Americans,’” Sirius said. “Felt appropriate.”
Remus laughed quietly. “You’re impossible.”
They ended up walking toward the river, eating pretzels from a street cart. The air cooled slightly as the sun began to dip, and the noise of the traffic softened behind them.
James tore off a piece of pretzel and tossed it to a pigeon. “Do you think Lily and Peter are actually learning anything at those museums? I miss my girlfriend.”
Sirius shook his head. “They’re probably just sitting somewhere judging us.”
“Fair,” Remus said.
James smiled. “Maybe. But at least we’ve lived.”
Sirius looked out at the skyline. “We’ve eaten, at least.”
Remus nudged Sirius with his shoulder. “Barely. You’ve lived off coffee and cigarettes since we got here.”
Sirius smirked. “It’s called a balanced diet.”
“Balanced on what, your poor decision making?”
James snorted, finishing the last of his pretzel. “You’re one to talk, Moony. You had half a Twinkie for lunch.”
Remus rolled his eyes but he was smiling. They found a low wall near the water and sat, the stone still warm from the afternoon sun. The light hit the buildings in streaks of orange and gold, and the air smelled faintly of salt and petrol.
James leaned back on his hands. “Alright. Best thing we’ve done here so far?”
Sirius didn’t hesitate. “That diner from the first night. The one with the spinning stools.”
Remus nodded. “Yeah. You nearly fell off one.”
“Exactly,” Sirius said, pleased. “Pure muggle fun.”
James thought for a moment. “Coney Island was good. Lily looked so happy on that Ferris wheel.”
Remus smiled softly. “She did.”
They sat for a while, quiet except for the sound of traffic somewhere behind them. The sun was low now, the skyline edged in gold. Sirius pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket, but he didn’t light it, just turned it between his fingers.
“Can’t believe we’re here,” he said finally. “Feels like another world.”
“It is,” James said. “And I, for one, am thriving.”
Remus gave him a look. “You got sunburnt yesterday.”
James held up a finger. “Still thriving.”
Sirius laughed under his breath, shaking his head. When he looked over at Remus, the smile softened a little. “You like it here, don’t you?”
Remus shrugged. “It’s nice. Loud, but nice.”
“It is nice,” Sirius said quietly.
Remus turned, about to retort, but Sirius was already watching the water again, cigarette still turning slowly in his hand. Remus put his arm around Sirius’s shoulder. Sirius leaned into him without thinking, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
James, oblivious, was still talking. “Tomorrow we’re finding real pizza. That’s what everyone says you have to do here.”
“Real pizza,” Sirius echoed, still half-smiling. “Alright mate.”
Remus stood, brushing crumbs from his jeans. “Then you’re navigating, Prongs. I’m done chasing your maps.”
James pointed at him. “You say that, but you’ll follow.”
“Because someone has to keep you alive.”
They started walking again, Sirius falling into step beside Remus. The streetlights were flickering on, and the pavement glowed faintly under their shoes.
James was still talking about food, gesturing with what was left of his pretzel. “Tomorrow, real pizza. Proper New York slice. None of this hotel rubbish.”
Sirius hummed in agreement. “As long as it’s edible and not wrapped in plastic.”
They turned up another street, the noise of the river fading behind them. The city felt different at night. It was quieter, almost gentle in the way it buzzed. None of them said much for a while.
Sirius brushed his shoulder against Remus’s as they walked, more out of habit than thought. Remus didn’t move away.
James glanced back over his shoulder. “C’mon, slowpokes.”
“Keep your hair on,” Sirius called, though he didn’t speed up.
By the time they reached the corner, the three of them were laughing again about something small and stupid, their voices disappearing into the city noise.
It wasn’t a perfect day, or even a remarkable one, but it felt like theirs. And that was enough.