Chapter 1
"Shadowplay" – Joy Division
The air tasted like iron.
It clung to Sirius’s tongue, stuck to the back of his throat with the same copper-heavy weight as blood, as rust, as something long decayed and still pretending to live.
He let the smoke burn down his lungs and tried not to gag on it. Not from the cigarette—he had smoked too many for that to matter anymore, but rather from the atmosphere. The train station was thick with wet concrete from the downpour that had occurred a few hours ago, sour breath and an inkling melancholic feeling. And something else, something he couldn't remember the name of. Like static.
The cigarette he had between his fingers was almost gone, crushed down to a trembling stub, ashes near his feet. He hadn’t noticed how fast it burned, or maybe it was the wind that finished it. His hands were steadier than he expected. Everything else wasn’t.
He shifted his weight against the wall, the bricks grimy beneath his black jacket, the sharp press of reality grounding him just enough to keep from falling through the floor. People drifted by in loose herds—coats pulled tight, collars high, running or moving slow with their faces down turned to the ground. Everyone looked half-dead, like some sort of zombie apocalypse had happened and Sirius, who didn't notice it, was caught in it.
Or maybe it was just London, its own atmosphere.
Or maybe it was just Sirius, who instead of going to James, decided to run away in the middle of the night on May 21st.
He dragged in another, probably the last, almost non-existent inhale. Smoke from the cigarette filled the hollow parts of him. It didn’t help.
The train screamed into the station, metal on metal like claws down a chalkboard. No one reacted. People just moved like clockwork toward the opening doors, eyes still empty, like rats headed for the maze they already knew the shape of.
Sirius flicked the cigarette onto the wet concrete and watched the ember die out like a warning flare. Then he stepped through the doors and disappeared.
Inside, the compartment felt like the inside of a dying animal. Yellow fluorescent lighting flickered overhead, humming like a jaw clenched too long. The seats were covered in dust. The air was stale. He moved through the aisle slowly, taking it all in. It wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t empty either—just stray people with nowhere better to be. Same as him. Or so he thought in passing.
He found a compartment near the end of the train. An empty one. Good. He slid the door shut behind him, dropped onto the seat by the window, and sprawled like gravity didn’t matter. Legs stretched. Arms loose. Head back. He lit another cigarette and exhaled slowly, like it might buy him a little more time. For what, he didn't know.
He didn't think he could smoke here, but who would have cared? Everyone was busy worrying about themselves to pay attention to him.
The train started to move. It was better, almost, when it was in motion—like he could trick himself into thinking he was going somewhere. Like speed counted for something, even if direction didn’t.
He didn’t have a destination.
He had left that behind with the name he wouldn’t say anymore, with the family that carved him into someone he didn’t recognize, with the house that still stank of shame and cold marbles, and everything he had ever tried to escape. He had money to his name , more than enough, thanks to his uncle's Alphard’s middle finger of a will—and no plan. Just a black bag full of cash, nicotine, a lighter that used to belong to his best friend James, and the kind of loneliness that didn’t come from being alone.
He didn’t know how long he sat there. Ten minutes? Forty? The silence grew familiar, like a bruise you stopped noticing.
Then—
The door slid open.
He didn’t look up.
Didn’t have to.
The air suddenly changed.
Thickened.
Like someone had walked in carrying a storm behind their ribs. The footsteps were heavy but measured. Calm. He felt the quiet before he heard it.
The guy who walked in didn’t say a word. Just slid into the seat across from him without asking, like he’d already decided this was his space too. He moved like gravity obeyed him out of respect. Like the train, the lights, the world owed him silence. He brought a dark green backpack and from the looks of it a skateboard with himself.
Sirius glanced over—and something in him jolted. Light brown jacket. Faded, with some patches on it. Shoulders stiff. Curly, dirty blonde hair. Mesmerising golden brown eyes. Freckles littered across the face, with a weird scar that pierced through it. Cigarette already lit. Boots scuffed to hell. There was a smear of dirt across one cheek—maybe an old bruise, maybe just shadow.
He had the kind of face you only noticed if you were paying attention—and once you did, you couldn’t stop, it sucked you in.
His eyes didn’t move. But the stranger hadn’t said anything about it. Just stared out the window like it didn’t matter what he was missing. Everything about him said fuck off, but not in the loud, messy way. In the way that meant he didn’t care enough to make it theatrical. He was just done.
Sirius watched him for a few seconds too long. Then turned back to the window. Pretended it didn’t matter. Put in his earphones his brother had gifted him for his birthday in secret.
They sat like that. Parallel lines. Not touching, not speaking, but orbiting the same weird silence. The train rumbled beneath them, tracks screaming beneath steel. The world outside smeared into smudges of grey and brick and distance.
Then Sirius said, without looking, asked the stranger, “You're off somewhere?“
The stranger didn’t flinch. Just took another drag and let the smoke drift out through his nose. “Aren’t we all?“Voice low, raspy. Uninterested. Kinda stupid question to ask someone on a train, Sirius thought while mentally slapping himself.
Sirius gave a quiet, humorless chuckle. “Guess we are.“
Another beat passed. Then, “You got a name?“
“Remus,“ he answered after a delay. Still didn’t look at him.
“Sirius.“
That was it. Names traded like smokes.
The silence returned, but different now. Not empty. Not heavy either. Just there. Sirius let it sit. He wasn’t good at shutting up, usually. But this kid, Remus, who looked the same age as he, had a stillness that made noise feel stupid.
There was something coiled under his skin. Not fear. Not pain. Just something Sirius couldn’t name. Like a wire stretched too tight. Like if you touched it, it’d snap, and maybe take you with it.
He wanted to ask more. Wanted to crack him open, find out what was under the cool, the stillness, the silence. But the kid wasn’t giving anything. Not even cracks in the armor. And that made Sirius want to look longer.
Remus shifted once, just slightly. The sleeve of his jacket slipped up his wrist, revealing a thin line of scar tissue—not fresh, not clean. Faint. Sirius didn’t stare. But he noticed. He didn’t ask.
They sat in silence for a while. Let the train carry them wherever it was going. Neither of them looked at the other much. But neither of them moved either.
“Remus?“ Sirius whispered.
“Yes?“ Remus whispered in return, as if making a joke out of a sudden whisper of his name.
Sirius crushed his cigarette in the ashtray bolted to the window frame. “Do you ever feel like the only reason you’re still alive is spite?“
Remus flicked ash into the tray. Didn’t miss a beat. “Why such deep questions on the first meeting, shouldn't we at least know more about each other before asking strangers existential questions?“
Sirius wanted to impress him, and now looks stupid instead. Sirius turned to look at him again, and this time, Remus looked back.
“Okay, if you don't like deep conversations, then what do you like?“ Sirius again asked.
“Cigarettes for first, chocolate, knitted sweaters, rainy weather and not staying in one place for too long.“ Remus answered after a few seconds of thinking. “How old are you?“ Remus asked in turn.
“Is this turning into 20 questions?“ Sirius asked while barely stopping himself from grinning.
“Why are you grinning like an idiot, I was just asking the most normal question you could ask someone you just met“ Remus sharply answered while grinning himself and continued: “If you're interested yourself, I’m 17 by the way, birthday on March 10th“
“Ha, I’m born on November 3rd, which makes me, what, 4 months older than you, therefore, you should respect my authority,“ Sirius said while looking proud of himself.
“The hell“ Remus scoffed.
And then the moment passed, they returned to silence. Remus turned back to the window. Sirius leaned his head against the glass. They sat in the humming dark of a moving train. Still and wired. A little closer to something they wouldn’t name. But Sirius didn’t feel alone, for once. And maybe that was enough.
The train was still moving.
It was impossible to tell how long it had been. Sirius didn’t check the time, didn’t care what the next station was called. It wasn’t like he planned to get off anytime soon. Didn't know where to go. The lights overhead buzzed with the same tired hum, flickering now and then like the train was about to cough out its last breath. It suited him. Everything on the edge of breaking. Even the air felt recycled too many times over.
The compartment had settled into a kind of uneasy stillness. Not peaceful. Not tense. Just suspended—like time had been cut loose from the rest of the world and was floating in this box with them, waiting to snap back in.
Sirius stretched his legs a little further, heel pressing against the opposite bench, testing how far he could push without touching Remus who was across from him and looking through some sort of magazine. Not close enough for contact. Just enough to feel it. Remus hadn’t moved much. He sat like someone used to long silences. Jacket collar pulled up, one arm slung across his lap, other had the magazine in his hands. His posture was loose, but not relaxed. Alert in a way that felt practiced.
They haven’t spoken since their last conversation.
That should’ve made Sirius uncomfortable. It didn’t. If anything, it made the moment feel more real. Like most of the conversations he had ever had were filled with nothing, just noise, and this, whatever it was, was something else entirely.
He wanted to know what Remus was thinking. But he didn’t ask. He didn’t look like someone who gave anything for free.
So Sirius let the quiet stretch.
Outside the window, the landscape shifted from rows of skeletal buildings to flat fields blurred with mist. A few trees leaned like they were trying to run in the opposite direction. He stared at them until his vision went soft.
His hand drifted toward the inside pocket of his coat. Pulled out the pack of cigarettes and a lighter. The sound of the flick was sharp in the room. He lit it, dragged hard, then offered it across the gap without looking up. Remus didn’t move at first. Then, slow, deliberate, he took it. Brushed his thumb over the edge of the box like he was feeling for something. He lit his own without a word.
Sirius glanced over, caught the way Remus’s eyes narrowed just slightly as he inhaled. His face was unreadable—somewhere between focus and indifference.
“Are you always this quiet?“ Sirius asked, not because he needed an answer, but because he wanted to hear how Remus would respond.
Remus didn’t turn his head. “Are you always this nosy?“
Sirius smirked. “Touché.“
That was it. No laughter. No shift in posture. Just smoke between them again.
He leaned back against the seat, letting his head hit the pane with a dull thunk. The vibration of the train ran up his spine like static. He tried not to think about Grimmauld Place. About the last thing he had said before slamming the door. About how no one had stopped him.
Remus tilted his head just enough that Sirius could see the curve of his mouth. He was watching something outside, something far away. Or maybe nothing at all.
“You get off anywhere in particular?“ Sirius said, “or just keep moving?“
The pause was long enough that Sirius figured he wouldn’t answer.
Then: “I said that I don’t like staying in one place for too long.“Remus again smirked.
“Stupid idea, but let's not stay in one place for too long together?“
Remus finally looked at him. Just for a second. Then nodded, like he had confirmed something. Sirius wondered what was going through Remus head, heck, he was thinking what he was thinking giving out ideas as this to a person he barely knows. He finally went mental as his mother used to say. But Remus is mental too if goes together with Sirius somewhere.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “You’re not giving me much to work with.“
Remus shrugged. “Not my job.“
Sirius didn’t press.
The silence didn’t feel empty anymore. It felt like a third passenger. Something between them, weightless and waiting. There was something under the surface. He knew it. Something jagged.
The lights overhead buzzed again. A long, slow flicker. The train didn’t slow. It didn’t speed up. It just kept moving forward. Sirius closed his eyes for a second. Just to see if the quiet would follow him into the dark.
It did. The train kept moving.
Sirius didn’t know how long they’d been riding. Time didn’t work right in places like this. It wasn’t hours or minutes anymore—it was measured in cigarettes, in flickering lights, in the sound of metal grinding beneath them. Every so often, the train passed a station, slowing just enough to tease the idea of stopping, but never actually did. Just pressed on. Forward into nothing.
He liked that. The refusal to arrive.
The compartment still smelled like stale smoke and plastic, like the inside of a cigarette lighter that had been struck one too many times. The buzz of the lights overhead was beginning to fade into the background, more pulse than sound now, the kind of noise that settled in your bones. No one had spoken in a while. Not since the last flicked ash. Not since Sirius had tried to reach across the silence and Remus had, as always, given nothing in return.
It should’ve felt awkward. Sirius wasn’t used to silence like this. Usually, silence was a trap—something waiting to break open into accusations, or disappointment, or worse: indifference. But this silence wasn’t like that.
This silence belonged to Remus. And Sirius wasn’t sure why that didn’t bother him.
Remus sat as still as ever, his body all sharp corners and deliberate slouch. There was something unmovable about him, like he had rooted himself to the seat without meaning to. One knee up, arm looped around it. Cigarette balanced between two fingers, half-forgotten, burning slowly. He looked out the window like the blur of trees and dead towns meant something to him.
Maybe it did. Or maybe he just didn’t want to look at Sirius anymore. Sirius watched the way the smoke curled near his face, slow and grey and unfazed. His eyes followed the shape of it—how it twisted, stretched, dissolved. He hadn’t realized he was staring until Remus shifted slightly and looked back, catching him. Not surprised. Not annoyed. Just... looking. Sirius didn’t flinch. Didn’t drop his gaze. For once, he didn’t bother pretending he hadn’t been caught.
Remus raised an eyebrow, the barest flicker of amusement in the corner of his mouth.
“What?“ he said. Just that. Soft. Somewhat amused.
Sirius blinked once, then shrugged, dragging his gaze back to the ceiling. “You just sit really still.“
Remus didn’t answer right away. Then: “What else am I supposed to do?“
Sirius didn’t have a response. He didn’t need one. The rhythm of the train returned. Clicks and hums and the low whine of wheels skimming steel. He let it settle again, like a blanket.
“Feels like if I close my eyes, I’ll miss something.“
Remus shrugged. “There’s nothing to miss.“
He leaned back in his seat again, arms crossed, foot tapping lightly against the floor. The contact between their boots from earlier hadn’t happened again, but Sirius hadn’t forgotten it. It didn't mean anything. Not really. But it also hadn’t been for nothing.
“Where do you go?“ Sirius asked, not even thinking this time. “When you don’t want to be seen?”
Remus glanced at him sideways. “You mean now?“
Sirius nodded.
Remus took a breath, then exhaled and smirked at Sirius.
“Nowhere. That’s the whole point. Shouldn’t you, such a ‘deep, serious thinker’ know?“
“I’m gonna hit you in the head if you make any references to my name like that in the future“ Sirius said annoyed. His parents couldn’t think of a more stupid, no, serious name. Fuck. The hell. Stop such ridiculous thoughts.
Remus genuinely laughed and that led to Sirius laughing, and they were both laughing until tears were rolling down their cheeks.
Then they both sat in some sort of agreement. Some sort of secret pact. And neither of them questioned it.
The train passed under another set of lights. Flash. Darkness. Flash. And then nothing again. Just them.
Sirius turned toward Remus again. “You got people?“
Remus gave him a look.
Then, flatly: “No.“
“I don’t think anyone ever really notices when we leave,“ Sirius said, almost to assure himself, even though he knew that James, Jame’s family and Peter would be in a frenzy, and Regulus, oh god, how will he react. But those thoughts quickly stopped as Remus answered. “They do, they just don’t do anything about it.“
Oh, what a sad but beautiful line, Sirius thought. They sat like that until the lights buzzed again and the train leaned gently into another turn.