Explanation: Not much of an explanation for this chapter. I pretty much all clumped it into the first one. So, anyways, this is the second chapter! I am sorry that this one is shorter than my usual chapters; I whipped this one up after a loooong night of homework.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Rent, I have to deal with that. Those who wrote both of these literary masterpieces and created these characters are geniuses. Thank.

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As the light was fading behind the New York skyline, Remus stepped out of the airport cab and surveyed the city in which he'd only seen before in frequent postcards and family photos provided by Roger in their numerous letters. The buildings were bloody huge- it made some of the buildings in London look like dollhouses. Hell, the height of some of them made Hogwarts look like a playhouse. To put it lightly, Remus was shocked.

"Excuse me, there's no place I could find a phone, do you?" Remus asked the cabby, before the man was able to drive away. He was answered with a rather irritated stare and waved his hand vaguely towards a booth across the street, before hitting the gas and speeding off.

"Ah-famous New York hospitality." Remus muttered to himself, as he crossed the road and dialed Roger's number again.

A slightly breathy female voice answered. "Hello?"

"Is Roger there yet, it's-"

"Oh, It's you. He's here, just a second." The was a lot of shifting on the other end, and someone groaned.

"Who's this?" Roger's seemed about just as breathy as the girl's had. He wondered if he'd interrupted something, and blushed deeply.

" It's Mark."

"Mark? Where the hell'er you calling from?"

" If you still live in the same place since you moved out of your parent's place, probably three blocks away."

"What are you doing in New York?"

It was rather obvious now that Tom had not conveyed his message. "Well... I've come to stay."

"Shit, why didn't you call before?"

"I did, someone named Tom answered."

Roger swore he'd do something to 'fucking Collins' that made Remus blush a little deeper. " It's alright, I can try and stay somewhere else-"

"Bull, your here. You'll just have the couch for tonight."

"S'better than the floor."

"Great." Roger went quite on the other end, as if he were thinking something over. " You wouldn't mind.. Mind waiting like half an hour though, would you? I'm a little... Busy at the moment. I can call Benny to pick you up, show you the sites a bit."

"Actually... I think I'll browse some of the shops around here, that'll give you enough time, right?"

"Yeah... but I'll have Benny come and pick you up to talk you here, anyways. You don't want to be walking around this place at dark if you don't know the area."

"I'll be fine. Besides, where'll he know to pick me up?"

"He'll find you. See you in about an hour." Click.

"Hello? Roger are you? Damnit!" Remus swore into the phone. He didn't like the idea of being picked up by someone he didn't know. Not because he didn't trust one of Roger's friends, but because he didn't like to feel like he couldn't handle himself on his own, and be looked at like some sort of overgrown five-year-old.

But what could he do about it now?

Remus looked about him at the rather rugged buildings. Hell, he looked right at home here, in his rather worn muggle sweater and fraying jeans. He glance at his reflection in a cracked storefront window. What stared back at him left more, much more, to be desired. For one, he may be dressed his age, but he looked like he was forty-eight. Unfortunately, his condition and recent stressful conditions had begun to turn his sandy hair gray.

"Well Remus, you're here, with a clean slate. Why not jazz things up a bit?"

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"Five minutes later, in a rather shady bathroom at the back of a shop, Remus surveyed himself carefully in a smudged mirror. He had to admit, he could do some mean spellwork when he wanted to. Gone was the greys, and the sandy hair. It no longer hung in a shaggy mop nearly obscuring his eyes. It was spikily cropped back now, and a rich dark brown. A few more self-transformation spells to cover up a few facial and hand slash arm scars, remnants of moon nights, and he could actually passes for a twenty-one year old normal man. He smiled at his reflection. Even better.

Passing back through the shop he'd stopped in, trying to avoid the scrutinizing gaze of the storeclerk, he picked up a pair of glasses. Heck, Peter always said that he was probably the only intellectual person he knew he didn't wear glasses. He'd add them on to the ensemble. Purchasing the glasses, he put them on, and rushed back to the bathroom, striking a pose in the mirror.

There was something very familiar about the appearance staring back. It definitely didn't look like him now.

It looked like a James.

It was a James with square glasses, mind you, and brown hair. But he could have passed for his brother easily.

"So much for trying to stop thinking about them." He muttered to himself angrily, redrawing his wand from his Jean pocket. Pausing to make sure he got it right, he mutter the spell, and his hair lightened to a light straw-color. This looked even better, and it'd have the added bonus of hiding any greys he didn't catch in time when the shone through his disguise.

"Perfect."

He left the shop after a while admiring himself in the bathroom for a while (he hated to admit it, but he really, really did like looking this way- it was like he really wasn't Remus Lupin, unemployed werewolf and wizard. He just couldn't get enough of it.) Leaving the shopclerk scratching his head at the though that the man who's hair seemed to have changed color three times, before shrugging it off and blaming it on bad coffee.