Amelie walked down the wet street. She had just moved here, and now she was
lost. She looked around. Most of the shops were closed, as it was already
nine o'clock on Sunday night. She noticed a light coming from one place,
though. She looked up at the sign. It was called The Moonlight Chocolatry.
She peered into the small shop. It was rather nice, if not rather empty. An old lady sat sipping a mug of what seemed to be hot chocolate. She was talking to a young man behind the counter.
The man came as a surprise to her. His hair was brown with a few silver streaks. His bangs weren't really bangs at all, as they went a good ince below his chin, and she watch as his hand went to his ear and long, spider- like fingers brushed the bangs behind that ear. He was pale, and his eyes were a stunning shade of green, with brown slashed in the middle. He was tall and elegant, in every way.
He looked past the woman and saw her standing there. "Good evening," he said.
"Hello," she said. "I'm new in town. I was wondering if you could show me to Winchester Avenue."
He came from behind the counter and to the door. "It's down that way," he said, pointing down the street. "You come to Parkside Lane and turn left, keep going. You can't miss it. But first, would you like some hot chocolate? Or coffee, if you prefer it?"
Amelie walked up to the bar and took a seat. "Coffee, please. I didn't know that chocolatries sold coffee."
"I sell more than just chocolate. But it *is* mostly choclate," he said, smiling as he put the coffee cup on the table.
"Tell me, dear," the old woman said, turning to Amelie. "What do you do for a living?"
"I work part time in a food market," she said.
"Oh, what do you do with the other part of your time?" the lady asked. "Oh! Excuse me, I've been so busy asking you questions that I haven't introduced myself. I'm Mrs. Hefflemen. But you can call me Ruth."
"I'm Amelie Breutodeux. I'm an exchange college student from Paris."
"Ah, yes. I thought so; you have that beauty that only french can have. I don't believe our barman has introduced *himself*," Ruth said.
"Forgive me. Although, I would hardly call myself a barman," he said, turning once again to Ruth. "I'm Remus Lupin. I actually own this establishment. Excuse me, ladies." He walked into what appeared to be a kitchen.
"Can you believe," Ruth said, turning to Amelie. "He started this place a year ago with hardly a penny. The place was run down to; he had to clean and fix the whole thing up by himself. He runs the place alone too. He makes everything by hand, keeps it clean, everything!"
Amelie sat there for a moment. She was indeed impressed. "Wow," she said. "I don't think I could ever imagine myself doing something like that." She glanced at the clock it was nearly nine-thirty. "Oh! I have to go, it's getting late. I have to walk home, you know."
"Of course, dear. Come back sometime," Ruth said.
Amelie hurried out of the door and into the street.
Her roommates were in hysterics by the time she got home.
"I thought you'd call if you were going to be late!" A blonde, Amanda demanded.
"What about our dinner?" Gertrude screeched.
Amelie had to admit, they weren't the best people to be living with. She was always a loner anyway, and they were never fun to be around.
"Aw, leave her alone." Her only real friend, Micheal came out of the kitchen. He had curly brown hair that fell in his face, and gray eyes that shined beautifully.
She went into the kitchen with him, as Amanda and Gertrude went fuming into their bedroom for a "quick", five-hour makeover before their dates.
"So, where were you?" Mike asked.
"I got lost on the way home from work. I found a 'chocolatry'. Something I haven't seen since I came from Paris," she said, giving a small smile.
"Oh, you found *that* place, did you? Did you meet the owner?" He asked.
"Yes."
"Well, what do you think about him?" he asked.
"Well, he seemed a bit strange, but he was pretty nice. I think he's uncomfortable around strangers," Amelie said. "He's also kinda pretty," she added, a bit shyly.
"Yeah, he's beautiful alright. And nice. But don't you find him creepy?" he asked. "I mean, in a beautiful, strange sort of way."
"A little. I just think you need to get to know him. I've met people like that in Paris. Besideds, you thought *I* was creepy when you first met *me*," she said.
"Good point," he said.
"You think everybody is creepy," she said smiling. "If anybody was creepy, it was the old lady there."
"Oh, you mean Ruth. Yeah. But the owner: you wouldn't know it from first glance, but he's thirty-five years old. And he's friends with that ex- convict, Sirius Black."
"Will you stop freaking out. You think my boss is creepy. I swear, you think he's undead, and I can tell you he's perfectly alive."
Mike smiled and sat down, giving her a quick hug. He then left the room.
@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@
Author's notes: OooOOooOOooh! Creepy store owners! Sure, I suppose Remus might be creepy at first (in a beautful sort of way). I don't know, Mike was just sort of fun to make. He reflects this old friend I used to have that was convinced everybody she met was a mad axeman.
She peered into the small shop. It was rather nice, if not rather empty. An old lady sat sipping a mug of what seemed to be hot chocolate. She was talking to a young man behind the counter.
The man came as a surprise to her. His hair was brown with a few silver streaks. His bangs weren't really bangs at all, as they went a good ince below his chin, and she watch as his hand went to his ear and long, spider- like fingers brushed the bangs behind that ear. He was pale, and his eyes were a stunning shade of green, with brown slashed in the middle. He was tall and elegant, in every way.
He looked past the woman and saw her standing there. "Good evening," he said.
"Hello," she said. "I'm new in town. I was wondering if you could show me to Winchester Avenue."
He came from behind the counter and to the door. "It's down that way," he said, pointing down the street. "You come to Parkside Lane and turn left, keep going. You can't miss it. But first, would you like some hot chocolate? Or coffee, if you prefer it?"
Amelie walked up to the bar and took a seat. "Coffee, please. I didn't know that chocolatries sold coffee."
"I sell more than just chocolate. But it *is* mostly choclate," he said, smiling as he put the coffee cup on the table.
"Tell me, dear," the old woman said, turning to Amelie. "What do you do for a living?"
"I work part time in a food market," she said.
"Oh, what do you do with the other part of your time?" the lady asked. "Oh! Excuse me, I've been so busy asking you questions that I haven't introduced myself. I'm Mrs. Hefflemen. But you can call me Ruth."
"I'm Amelie Breutodeux. I'm an exchange college student from Paris."
"Ah, yes. I thought so; you have that beauty that only french can have. I don't believe our barman has introduced *himself*," Ruth said.
"Forgive me. Although, I would hardly call myself a barman," he said, turning once again to Ruth. "I'm Remus Lupin. I actually own this establishment. Excuse me, ladies." He walked into what appeared to be a kitchen.
"Can you believe," Ruth said, turning to Amelie. "He started this place a year ago with hardly a penny. The place was run down to; he had to clean and fix the whole thing up by himself. He runs the place alone too. He makes everything by hand, keeps it clean, everything!"
Amelie sat there for a moment. She was indeed impressed. "Wow," she said. "I don't think I could ever imagine myself doing something like that." She glanced at the clock it was nearly nine-thirty. "Oh! I have to go, it's getting late. I have to walk home, you know."
"Of course, dear. Come back sometime," Ruth said.
Amelie hurried out of the door and into the street.
Her roommates were in hysterics by the time she got home.
"I thought you'd call if you were going to be late!" A blonde, Amanda demanded.
"What about our dinner?" Gertrude screeched.
Amelie had to admit, they weren't the best people to be living with. She was always a loner anyway, and they were never fun to be around.
"Aw, leave her alone." Her only real friend, Micheal came out of the kitchen. He had curly brown hair that fell in his face, and gray eyes that shined beautifully.
She went into the kitchen with him, as Amanda and Gertrude went fuming into their bedroom for a "quick", five-hour makeover before their dates.
"So, where were you?" Mike asked.
"I got lost on the way home from work. I found a 'chocolatry'. Something I haven't seen since I came from Paris," she said, giving a small smile.
"Oh, you found *that* place, did you? Did you meet the owner?" He asked.
"Yes."
"Well, what do you think about him?" he asked.
"Well, he seemed a bit strange, but he was pretty nice. I think he's uncomfortable around strangers," Amelie said. "He's also kinda pretty," she added, a bit shyly.
"Yeah, he's beautiful alright. And nice. But don't you find him creepy?" he asked. "I mean, in a beautiful, strange sort of way."
"A little. I just think you need to get to know him. I've met people like that in Paris. Besideds, you thought *I* was creepy when you first met *me*," she said.
"Good point," he said.
"You think everybody is creepy," she said smiling. "If anybody was creepy, it was the old lady there."
"Oh, you mean Ruth. Yeah. But the owner: you wouldn't know it from first glance, but he's thirty-five years old. And he's friends with that ex- convict, Sirius Black."
"Will you stop freaking out. You think my boss is creepy. I swear, you think he's undead, and I can tell you he's perfectly alive."
Mike smiled and sat down, giving her a quick hug. He then left the room.
@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@
Author's notes: OooOOooOOooh! Creepy store owners! Sure, I suppose Remus might be creepy at first (in a beautful sort of way). I don't know, Mike was just sort of fun to make. He reflects this old friend I used to have that was convinced everybody she met was a mad axeman.