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Summary
Portland (OR), 1971.
They could have been driving for days, or mere seconds, the road a black wound on the earth, slipping fast and blurry beneath them. It was an endless repeating scene of fields and grain silos, rusted sheds and vacant, soulless land— the same stretch of film, looped over and over again.
Remus felt light, lighter than air, stuck floating in his own bloodstream. It was like his soul wasn’t quite tethered to the earth but for his fingertips, where Sirius’s warmth seeped through his jacket into Remus’s hands.
He squeezed his eyes shut, the roaring of the bike and the wind in his ears so impossibly loud that for a moment he worried he’d never hear again. Maybe he never would. Maybe this was it: one last endless dream. Maybe they’d ride and ride and ride and never arrive anywhere at all. Maybe there was nowhere left to go.OR:
Remus Lupin doesn't know much, but he knows the American dream is just that. A dream.
It's harder to believe it, though, when Sirius Black is looking at him.
It's 1971, and Remus is Awake.