*

QUEENS, NEW YORK

The wool of Pam's white cardigan was soft against her skin. As she walked down the avenue, her arms overflowing with groceries from a local downtown market, a breeze ruffled her hair playfully. Autumn leaves danced around the sidewalks and sewer grates. The early light of dawn glittered on every skyscraper window, signaling the start of another day.

In a bustling neighborhood like Queens, no one noticed the little daydreamer as she wove through the crowd, humming under her breath. Of course, the morning had something to do with that, too. All mornings in New York were the same. People drank their coffees and read their newspapers, ignoring each other as they pushed their way through crowds, and as always, life continued on.

Pam allowed Vivaldi's The Four Seasons to consume her attention, humming along with the imaginary violins. Something about the music allowed her mind to relax. The pestered voices of thousands stayed out, for now.

Turning on her heel, she took a sharp left and descended into what appeared to be an abandoned subway terminal. A nearby sign read UNDER CONSTRUCTION: DO NOT ENTER. Her nimble feet dodged the broken and dislodged pieces of concrete, and her height made ducking to avoid swinging lightbulbs unnecessary. The lights flickered eerily. A Muggle might assume that the lights were simply broken, just like the rest of the terminal. Pam, however, knew that technology and magic didn't mix.

At the foot of the steps, the ground was painted with chipping yellow arrows. She followed their directions until she was ascending a second set of steps, this one much nicer than the previous. Slowly, she could feel the wind on her skin again, and she stepped out onto Resfeber Boulevard.

Built similarly to an average block in New York City, the boulevard was filled to the brim with witches and wizards. Skyscrapers stabbed the sky, tall and imposing. Moving posters hung from the reflective windows charmed to shine endlessly. Vendors pushed food carts up and down the street, advertising anything from steamed pumpkin juice to hot dogs.

Pam avoided the shoppers and hurried to a café called Queens Cakery. A little bell jingled as she pushed open the door. The warm aroma of pumpkin and various other autumnal spices immediately engulfed her and she breathed in deeply, a content smile settling on her face. A few customers sat at little tables, happily enjoying an early breakfast.

Setting the groceries on the counter, Pam walked around to the other side and pulled her long red mane into a high ponytail to keep it out of her face. She placed her wand on a shelf before reaching for an apron, an odd move for a witch, but there was much more to Pamela Jupiter than met the eyes.

With a critical eye, she scanned the baked goods currently in the case and took mental notes. Smiling, she started on a new dough, once again by hand.

"Pam! You're so quiet I didn't hear you leave, and you didn't tell me!"

Pam nearly spilled flour all over herself. Giggling, she replied, "hi, Phoebe."

Phoebe laughed and yanked playfully on her niece's ponytail on her way to shelve a tray of cupcakes that made Pam's mouth water just looking. "Thank you for grabbing those groceries. I really appreciate it."

"Oh, you're welcome. I like the morning, anyways. It's quieter." Pam shrugged, readjusting her sweater as it slouched off one of her shoulders. She returned to her work. It was one of her favorite recipes, and as she sprinkled cinnamon into the batter, a sense of calm came over her. Over the years, she'd learned there was nothing that freshly-baked desserts couldn't solve. "Is Clem still here?"

"I'm sure she's upstairs somewhere. She's not an early bird like you." Phoebe winked. With a swish of her wand, the coffee pot floated across the counter and refilled customer mugs, all painted different pastel shades. "Besides, she's a train wreck in the kitchen."

"Phoebe!"

"Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong," taunted her aunt. "Clem's a whiz with spells, but she can't operate an oven to save her life."

Pam sighed, beginning to roll out the dough and add an assortment of spices. "I'm afraid you're right."

Phoebe winked at her niece and hurried over to help an elderly couple at a corner table. A dog barked rather obnoxiously outside, and the snickering of a few boys drowned it out. A tea kettle began to whistle shrilly on the stovetop until it floated off of the burner with magic. Soft conversations floated lazily in the air, indistinguishable to anyone but those at the tables.

These were the sounds in Pam Jupiter's head, and as long as they weren't words, she was glad to let them stay.

The bell at the door jingled as four boys walked into the café, all laughing about something. Pam busied herself with baking, keeping her eyes down and Vivaldi on her mind. Those with loud words tended to have louder thoughts. Unfortunately, they all took seats at the counter, right in front of her. Their conversation became interrupting whispers, their sentences practically tripping over the others to be heard. It was chaotic, playful, and ultimately intrusive.

Pam swallowed and slid the cinnamon buns into the oven, then quickly darted away to wash her hands. Her eyes flitted over to the boys. They looked to be about her age, and they all spoke with English accents. With the dreadful knowledge that she couldn't avoid them forever, she returned to the counter.

"Hi," she said with a shy smile. "Can I, um, help you?"

The one with long hair raised his eyebrows, smirking, and murmured, "yeah, I reckon you can."

Pam's cheeks turned redder than her hair.

The bespectacled boy next to him grabbed a newspaper off of the counter and whacked him on the head. He cowered dramatically as the other three chuckled. Pam only pulled her hands into the sleeves of her sweater and bit her lip, unsure of how to react.

"Sorry about him," the boy said, grinning as he returned the newspaper. He rumpled his black curls. "I'd like to say he was recently hit by a bus or something, but he's always been an idiot."

"James Potter, I will kill you," vowed the first boy, although he was smiling.

"Not if Marlene kills you first," the tallest one pointed out. He spoke to his friends, but his eyes drifted to Pam. They were the prettiest color, at least in her opinion: dark like coffee, rich like chocolate. Brown eyes had always been her favorite. His face was marred by scars, but she didn't think they detracted from his appearance. She liked them, actually. He was like a hero from one of her books. "And she will. Don't forget about your almost-sort-of-on-and-off-not-quite girlfriend, mate."

"Oh, shut up, will ya? You're giving me a headache!" the boy with the red and gold beanie chimed in. He grinned at Pam. "I'm Peter. Could we get four coffees, please?"

"And scones."

"Eggs."

"Toast."

"Pumpkin bread."

"Cupcakes."

"Cupcakes? Really? At 7:30 in the morning?"

"Don't judge me, Moony. They're just muffins with frosting."

"As if you're not hyper enough already."

The boy who had flirted with her finally rolled his eyes and waved his arms, effectively shutting up the other three. "Why don't you just surprise us, ginger?"

"Surprise you?" Secretly, Pam had a love-hate relationship with that request. "Are you sure?"

"No, he's Sirius," the bespectacled one - James Potter- quipped. The boys laughed, but Pam stared blankly at them. Were all Brits so confusing? She'd never met one, other than her mother.

The tall one in the sweater rolled his eyes. "We're going to tip well, I promise."

"Yeah, James here is a spoiled little brat, he's got you covered," the flirtatious boy said jokingly. He ran a hand through his dark locks and leaned back in his chair, winking at a pair of girls across the room. They giggled and turned back to their meal, leaving him quite pleased with himself. "It's official. I'm attractive on multiple continents."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Look who's talking, Prince Pureblood. Aren't you rolling in Galleons?"

"Don't talk about that." The boy's expression soured and his attention returned to Pam. "Four of whatever you want. And poison his, while you're at it. Save me a heap of trouble."

Pam's brows drew together, but she hurried away as they began to bicker amongst themselves again. It was clear that they were friends - best friends, even - and it caused her to wonder what exactly four young British wizards were doing in Resfeber Boulevard. Tourists, most likely. New York had plenty of them.

Meanwhile, at the counter, James looked over at Sirius, an annoyed look on his face. "You had to flirt with her. You just had to scare off the first girl we meet in New York City."

"Not everyone's tied down with an engagement ring, Prongsie," Sirius retorted. "Don't spoil my fun."

"You didn't even get her name," Remus said painfully. The way his friend had treated the waitress bothered him, but he remained silent. He'd never really been one to stop James or Sirius from doing anything, too afraid to lose their friendship. Besides, he was nursing a brain-splitting headache with the full moon looming for the following night. "It's rude, Sirius."

"Don't lecture me, Remus," groaned Sirius. "It's getting old."

"Maybe Marlene was right about that leash," Peter mumbled. Sirius shot him a deadly glare.

"Are you three barking mad? We are an entire ocean away from all we've ever known, and you want to act like a bunch of middle-aged businessmen? If I wanted to be that, I'd go back to Grimmauld Place!"

"Sirius, mate, we aren't saying that -" James began, but Sirius cut over him.

"No, honestly! We're fighting in a war, right? Meaning we could die tomorrow or today or next year or in a decade or whatever. Shouldn't we have fun? I mean - holy moly."

Sirius' eyes widened to the size of dinner plates at the sight of yet another redhead. This one wore dark jeans, a fitted turtleneck, and a fringe vest. Her hair rested on her shoulders and her eyes were lined to perfection. She ran over to speak with the waitress, and while the similarities weren't exact, it was clear that they were sisters. For a moment, they all stared.

"They're like the American female Prewetts," commented Peter. "Except not identical. D'ya reckon the tall one likes a bloke in a beanie?"

"No one likes a bloke in a beanie. Let's be real." Sirius said. He checked his reflection in a spoon. "A man in a leather jacket with an English accent, though... that's something different entirely. Right, Moony?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Sure."

Personally, Remus couldn't see what the fuss was about, but he really hadn't seen the second girl. His eyes were still on the first, the waitress, as she chatted with her sister while preparing their breakfasts. She had the warmest smile he'd ever seen. After a minute, she looked up, a confused expression on her face, and glanced around the café, almost like she was searching for someone. Her gaze landed on him, and as they made contact, her eyes widened and she quickly ducked her head. He did the same, embarrassed.

"James? What're you doing?"

James had rested his head on the countertop. At Peter's question, he raised his hand straight into the air. "I am completely committed to Lily and will therefore not engage in this conversation."

"Atta boy, Prongs," Sirius said, clapping James on the back. "Good boy. I'll be sure to mention it in your status report for Evans. But as I have no one back home, I shall engage to my fullest potential."

"Why don't we just sightsee or something?" Remus asked.

"I am doing that."

"We literally just got here," Remus groaned, massaging his forehead with two fingers.

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Did you think a different time zone would change him or something?"

"It was too much to hope for, I reckon. He's a lost cause." Remus sighed. "We're here to recruit for the Order at MACUSA, not to have flings."

"We'll ask her, then!"

"Remember what Dumbledore said! We need to be sure we can trust whoever we ask." For once, it appeared that James was taking something seriously. "That doesn't mean flaunting the fact that you're a member of an illegal rebellion to score a date."

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Upcoming Wedding."

While the other three argued, Remus reached into his backpack and retrieved his book. With a begrudging sigh, he also slid a pair of glasses onto his nose. He despised them, but his eyesight seemed to worsen with every full moon, and he was tired of squinting. Every few seconds, though, his eyes flicked up from the text. He couldn't focus.

"She's coming. Coming, coming, Moony!"

Remus looked up, hopeful, but his spirits were slightly dashed as the taller of the redheads approached them. He warily lowered his book. She leaned on the counter, her calculating gaze sweeping over the group, a smirk spreading across her face.

"My sister tells me the lot of you are loud Brits." She raised one of her eyebrows and crossed her arms. Her golden earrings clinked lightly. "Fortunately, I like loud people, and I like Brits. So you're doing okay so far by my standards."

"Are we? Or I reckon I should say, am I?" Sirius winked and leaned forward. "The name's Sirius Black. Am I doing okay enough for a phone number?"

"Hm. My name's Clem, and I'll consider it." She tilted her head and tapped her cherry red lips with her fingers as she thought. "You're cute, I'll give you that. Nice eyes. And you're bold. I like bold. You've got an odd name, but I appreciate that. I've got to say, though, you're a bit short for me, Romeo. I'm tall naturally and I'm a high heels girl. You'd be like an armrest to me, so I think I'll pass."

Sirius' handsome face fell. His height had been a sore spot in the past. It was his only insecurity in terms of looks. Usually, this didn't stop girls from going out with him, as his face tended to make up for his smaller stature. Both Remus and James towered over him, both well over six feet, and everyone was taller than Peter (except, perhaps, for the redhead waitress). At 5'9", Sirius found himself looking up at his friends a bit too often for his taste.

"But I'm British."

"And I'm American. Good day, darling." Clem winked and walked away, leaving the Marauders momentarily speechless.

Peter was the first to recover. He patted his friend on the head. "Nice try, mate. You had to lose one of these times."

"But with an American." Sirius' voice was pained. "A gorgeous American, mind you."

"There are over eight million people in New York City alone. Half of them are women," Remus said, rolling his eyes. "I reckon you'll recover as soon as we walk down the street."

James elbowed Sirius. "Maybe you're only charming in England, Pads."

Sirius shuddered and buried his head in his arms, his long hair falling all over the place. "Let us hope not."

"I, um, I have your breakfast."

Remus turned his attention back to the waitress as she carefully distributed four completely different dishes and drinks to each boy. When she finished, her eyes flitted up to meet his. They were the clearest blue, but not shallow. It was almost like she could see though him, not the other way around. He didn't find her unnerving, though: she was enchanting.

"Thanks." He finally found his voice and gave her a warm smile. She smiled back slightly before hurrying over to the other end of the counter to serve other customers.

Remus looked down at his little plate. She'd given him a chocolate chip muffin that smelled even better than the ones at Hogwarts, and those had always been his favorite breakfast. Despite his distraction and headache, the mere sight of it lifted his spirits. He absentmindedly picked up his mug and took a sip, then set it down in surprise.

One, it was the best drink he'd ever tasted, the mocha flavoring mixed perfectly with the hot coffee.

Two, his headache subsided instantly.

The throbbing agony was gone, replaced by a dull ache. Remus stared at the cup, too self-aware to stare at the girl. He thought back to that awkward moment of eye contact between them, and how quick she had been to look away. Does she know?

The question puzzled him for the rest of the meal, but he kept his concerns to himself. His confusion only increased as his friends commented that she'd also brought all of them their favorite breakfast pastries, although none of them read into it. They returned to discussing Clem, not even noticing Remus' absence from the conversation.

He was halfway back to the apartment before realizing that he never got her name.

I FINALLY POSTED CH. 2! Thoughts???