Chapter 8

Eventually, after being informed of Lily and Sirius's truce, James went back to the house and reconciled with Lily. The next day, he, as promised, Apparated with Nicole to The Three Broomsticks. After helping her find a table and get a drink, he had to get to the hospital.

"Good luck, Greenleaf," he told her sincerely before Disapparating with a loud pop.

Nicole was nursing a butterbeer when the young man came in.

She would have to be a robot not to gasp in awe. He was incredibly good-looking—brown hair falling into eyes that were almost golden, a half-smile tugging at his lips. He adjusted the sleeve of his rust-colored robes, and when he spotted her at the table, the half-smile widened, and the amber eyes brightened.

"You must be Miss Greenleaf," he said as he stopped before her.

Nicole had to force herself to close her gaping mouth as she nodded.

"Wait a minute for me—I'll just be getting a drink." He headed for Madam Rosmerta.

Nicole took a couple of deep breaths to compose herself, then looked with a more unbiased eye at him. He was tall—about three inches more so than James, give or take an inch. He had a very warm countenance—warm but deep, like there were so many other layers beneath. There was a silent grace to his movements, she noted as she watched him navigate the busy area.

He sat down in the seat across from her with a glass of firewhisky and flicked his hair from his eyes. "Sorry if I'm late—I ran into a bit of trouble with one of my plants, you see." He extended his hand. "My name is Adrian Wane."

Nicole took it. "It's a pleasure. I suppose you already know me—Nicole Greenleaf."

He nodded and smiled. A silence fell as they both took a moment to catch up with their beverages.

"So, you run your own greenhouse, I hear," Nicole began.

Adrian nodded. "Yeah. It was actually a partnership with a couple of good friends, but they've long since left."

"How do you keep it up on your own? It must be draining."

"It is a bit, yes. But I enjoy the company of my plants so much, I don't really mind it."

Nicole laughed. "I know what you mean. It's so nice to just sit there, talking about what going through your mind, and knowing they'll always understand you."

He looked surprised at her analogy, but not at all displeased. "Would you like to see the greenhouse?"

"Of course! I'll be glad to."

Extending his hand, he led her from the pub and out to a broomstick parked at the door. He helped her onto it before sliding on himself.

"Hold on—we've got some wind today. It's going to be a rough ride." Adrian warned her.

Nicole obediently put her arms around his waist as they took off.

xxxxx

"HAH! HAHAHAHA!" Remus crowed gleefully as Sirius got another fresh dose of foul-smelling goo in the face.

The two of them were the only ones at home—the other three being either at work or looking for work. The pair was having a ball.

Sirius swiped at his face with a towel. "I'm feeling peckish. Shall we go get something to eat?"

"Face it, Padfoot—you'll never be better than me at Gobstones." Remus smirked as he packed up the set.

As he shrugged into his robes upstairs in his room, Remus picked up his manuscript and leafed through it, smiling as he went through Nicole's scrawled comments. And for odd reason which he could not fathom, he folded up the parchment and slipped it into his robes.

xxxxx

Sirius and Remus were hunting for some food in Diagon Alley. For some reason, Hogsmeade did not appeal to them today. An interesting twist of fate, as it turned out.

"How about Sing Chi's Chinese?" Remus suggested.

Sirius shrugged. "All right. I could use a dose of his fried sweet bread." Sing Chi was a legend in wizarding-cooking circles. He was particularly well-known for his use of ancient Asian cooking techniques. No one could copy the man.

While they were on their way to the restaurant, Sirius's eyes caught sight of what appeared to be a rather run-down hair salon. In front of it was an old wizard who looked to be in his seventies. He swiped uneasily at his forehead as he attempted to reason with a polished forty-year-old wizard. Remus stopped as well when he noticed the commotion.

"What's that all about?" the werewolf muttered.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. You go on ahead—save me a seat." Sirius strode towards the pair just as the younger man Disapparated. Remus clapped a hand on Sirius's shoulder and went on.

The old man was shaking his head and sighing as he turned back to the shop's door. Sirius tapped his shoulder.

"I couldn't help noticing—"

"We're closed," the old wizard said shortly.

"I just want to help."

"There's nothing that can be done," the old man sighed. "But I thank you for your concern."

Sirius followed him inside. The décor was very quaint and simple. Chairs lined the small space, and various hair products sat on shelves in a corner. He picked up a coconut-cream hair shine.

The old man looked surprised. "You're still here."

Sirius was in the middle of sniffing a bilberry shampoo. "What is all this?"

"Hair potions. I made them myself."

"They smell great," Sirius screwed the top back on the bottle.

"Thank you, I suppose—but what are you doing here?"

"What was that argument all about?" Sirius reclined in one of the chairs.

The aged wizard heaved a shudder. "My son-in-law. A shameless git if there ever was one. He works for the Ministry, and he threatened to shut this—" he gestured at the walls, "down."

"Why?"

"No customers, he says. A waste of land. I have a few weeks before he has the proposal approved by the Minister."

Sirius scrutinized the place. "I can work with this."

"What?"

"Sirius Black. Hogwarts. Looking for a job. Shall I consider myself hired?"

"Well, I…"

"Good. I'll return tomorrow with a plan, Mister…"

"Er, Murray."

"OK. Mr. Murray, you won't regret this." Sirius pumped his hand.

Mr. Murray mopped at his forehead, chuckling, as Sirius skipped out the door. "Kids these days…"

XXX

A/N: Sing Chi is actually inspired by a Cantonese movie I love called God of Cookery.