"Hello. I'm Olivier. From France. You want a drink?"
"Oh, I suppose so." The confident buzz that Hermione had suddenly evaporated, when confronted by this attractive young man. Over his shoulder, she could see some other girls at the bar giving him appreciative glances, but noticing that he was occupied with someone else, turn their attention elsewhere.
"What are you drinking? I think you are a Malibu Coke girl?"
Not knowing what it was he was talking about, and only hearing half of what he said over the pounding music, Hermione nodded dumbly. Olivier shouted over the din, and a dark-skinned bartender moonwalked his way over and took the order, a little to Hermione's chagrin.
"So, what brings a pretty girl like you to Hong Kong?"
Hermione ducked her head and blushed, not used to being complimented on her looks, and a little surprised, too. After all, Cori and Dawn had done very little in terms of getting her fixed for the night: pulling her hair back from her face into a bun, a little dash of mascara and lip-gloss and she was ready.
"Oh, I'm visiting a friend. And yourself?" She managed to force the question out, and as she finished asking, the bartender placed a dark drink on the surface in front of her, which she eagerly grabbed and took a sip of, saving herself the hassle of shouting more over the music.
"I am on exchange, studying Chinese in the University of Hong Kong. Where are your friends?"
Good question, Olivier.
Craning over the crowd to try spot Cori and Dawn, Hermione thought she glimpsed them not far off, though Dawn had progressed to having her arms thrown around the guys neck and they were kissing fiercely. Hermione pointed in their general direction, and Olivier nodded in response.
"You want to dance?"
Hermione nodded, but pointed at her drink first, indicating she wanted to finish without having to shout over the decibels thrust forth from the speakers. She slurped it down, deciding that she quite liked it, and perhaps she was a Malibu Coke girl, and taking a breath, smiled at Olivier, ready to go. He took her hand and led her into the pulsing throng. Despite the alcohol lowering her inhibitions, Hermione couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable at the masses of people forcing her to press up against Olivier and she found that his body was taut, and lightly muscled.
OK. Take a breath, and just let it go. Have fun, remember?
Taking her own advice, Hermione took a deep breath of the humid air, which, incidentally did not help, and relaxed slightly. Olivier had decided on a spot, and he turned around to face her, already moving to the music. Not sure quite what to do, Hermione turned around as well, which in hindsight to her was a slightly awkward move, and closed her eyes and let the music take her. She felt him move up behind her, his chest against her shoulders, and when they were moving in tandem, Hermione finally let herself go.
The duo danced on, and to Hermione it became a blur. Cori and Dawn stopped by on their way to the bar at some point, giving approving glances to Olivier, with knowing grins on their faces, and at another indeterminate point of time, Hermione and Olivier had started making out. He tasted slightly of cigarettes, but more strongly of some sweet liqueur, and they continued to move together. Later, Hermione recalled him asking if she wanted to leave, to which she responded to in the negative (though not without some consideration), and he nodded and turned to kiss her, still dancing.
The crowd started thinning out around three A.M., and Cori and Dawn sought out Hermione, their hook-ups having left already. Admittedly, Hermione was tired, having been out most of the day, as well as having the remainder of her jetlag to contend with. With a rather lengthy goodbye to Olivier, Hermione departed with Cori and Dawn, the two of them questioning her about her experiences.
"Well, he was very nice. I'd rather not kiss and tell! But it was different from what I thought it would be like: it wasn't all groping and sloppy kisses and drunkenness. It was actually rather sensual. Oh damn, I didn't get his number!"
Cori replied to this realization with the consolation that they would likely run into him again, what with the area being so small, and by the nature of Hong Kong city to simply push acquaintances together. Dawn hailed them a cab, and the two piled in, saying their goodbyes, and headed home, Hermione eager for some sleep.
The next few days followed in much the same vein, though to Hermione's disappointment they did not see Olivier again. Cori and Dawn had taken it upon themselves to show her around the city, in particular dragging her around shopping malls and visiting different bars and clubs. Hermione would have much rather explored Cordeillan Street, and constantly wondered about the way of life of these foreign witches and wizards. She was constantly on the lookout for more signs of magic in the city, though most were fleeting: did that plant in the flower market look strangely familiar to something in Greenhouse 5? Was that dark little store selling chopsticks or wands? Was she the only one seeing that dingy alleyway?
A week on, and Hermione, tired of being hauled through various stores that looked the same, wrangled herself out of Cori's grasp and chose to stay and try read some more of Shi Wu Lian's Memoirs. The day was rather damp, and from her window Hermione could see a thick fog rolling in from the verdant hills. Hermione grabbed the heavy tome, and seating herself on her bed again could not help but notice the vague silvery sheen of the leather. She found that by looking at the book out of the corner of her eye, the ephemeral movements settled, but writhed about and became silver cords that bound the book throughout, and seemed to cover some text on the cover. But looking at the book like that gave her a headache, so she eagerly flipped to the second chapter.
Throughout the afternoon, Hermione immersed herself in the ancient techniques of the magical crafts from the mo li shi of China, to the vedma of Russia. They spoke of allowing the natural powers to inhabit one's body, and from that point coax it into doing one's bidding. The text mentioned briefly the European methods, which were more inclined to forcing and bending magic to one's will, whereas these much older methods worked with it on equal levels. In several notes in the margin of one of the pages, the translator had theorized that European magic users assumed themselves above and apart from nature, and this created restrictions regarding the extent of the magic that could be used. With this "Natural" magic, the body is the channel of the magic, through natural means, connecting it with the rest of the environment, allowing manipulation of basic elements.
As Hermione read, immersed in this new and exciting knowledge that she was uncovering page by page, the fog she had seen earlier had thickened and was moving at a rapid pace towards the house. Soon, it was pressed against the window, so thick it was impossible to see out, and the reflection off the white vapour was near-blinding. As the fog had thickened, so too had the silver wisps on the cover of the tome, becoming a swirling ooze that congealed around Hermione's hands, totally unnoticed. As she read on, the immaterial substance slipped under her fingers, and began to seep into Hermione's skin and the fog began to slowly abate. She felt her hands become a little damp, but taking it for the humidity in the air and general heat of the day, Hermione wiped them on her pants, and quickly returned them to the cover, where the process continued. Her eyes never left the page.
"Hermione."
"Hermione!"
Hermione snapped her attention away from the book, she was so absorbed in it and she was so near the end. A mere chapter or two separated her from the back cover. She so dearly desired to finish it.
"Sorry Cori, I was really into this book. What's going on?"
Cori rolled her eyes, but replied, "We're going out tonight. Just you and me. Dawn's taking a night off, but this amazingly hot guy just texted me to say he wanted to meet, and I don't really know him, so you're coming with. And what did you do to your hair? I mean, I know it's bushy, but did you like, back brush it or something? Anyway, we're leaving in a couple hours, so start getting ready. No rush jobs this time."
Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at this rapid-fire speech, but nodded her assent. After all, she had been reading all day, and was a little sore from being in the same position, and her hands were a little clammy. Getting out would be good. Glancing outside, she noticed that the fog had entirely disappeared, leaving the evening clear. She could see the sunset over the tropical treetops, bright pinks and oranges draped across the low clouds.
Well, regardless what I do, Cori would probably go and redo it anyway. May as well go shower.
Despite the spare hours that Hermione had thought she would spend sitting around watching Cori get ready, it turned out that she was the one that ended up running around primping. She had showered and cleaned up, found a decent pair of jeans and what she thought was a pretty top to wear out. She found an old tube of mascara (the only makeup she owned, and knew how to put on herself, besides lipstick), swiped some on, and went to knock on Cori's door to check if she was presentable. The door opened, and Cori raised an eyebrow and said "Well, at least you're in house clothes, so if I get makeup on them it won't be much of a loss."
Trying to hide her slightly hurt pride (she thought, she'd dressed herself quite well), but realizing that perhaps this place was much fancier than what she thought, she allowed Cori to spin her into the cluttered bedroom and sit her in front of her dresser, and just did as she was told, after all, she knew very little about this kind of thing, and made a mental note to herself to try learn how to put on makeup. After all, a girl needs to know these things; she couldn't always rely on there being a Cori or Lavender (who did her makeup and hair for the Yule Ball). What if she had to find a job in some swanky company? She couldn't just waltz in as a little plain Jane.
So Hermione sat, and followed Cori's instructions.
"Look up. Look down. No don't move your head, just your eyes. I don't want to poke you with this. Close your eyes. Stop twitching! Hold still, I don't want to smudge this."
After a good half-hour, Cori told her she was ready, and sent her off to 'get dressed'. Which again, ended up with Hermione borrowing some of Cori's clothes, and a pair of shoes from Cori's mother. Tottering over to the mirror, Hermione thought "I look like I'm about to head to a bloody red carpet event! We're going to see some bloke she's only met once, and I feel like paparazzi are going to be there. What have I gotten myself into?!"
"The cab's here! Hermione, let's go!"
And so Hermione teetered her way to the front door, and blissfully slouched into the back seat of the waiting taxi, trying to pull down the short dress that rode up every time she made the tiniest move. Cori told the cabbie where to go and turned to Hermione, ready to prep her for the night.
"There's going to be a lot of people at this thing, it's the opening night for a high-end music store, so there's going to be a bunch of local South-East Asian DJs there, and probably a bunch of paparazzo. Just smile and pose a little, and we'll be fine. He said he's put us on the guest list, so we should be in just fine."
Hermione nodded, and sat through the rest of the ride in silence, looking out the window and taking in the views, while Cori chattered on her phone, bragging to various people about the opening event she was going to.
When they got to their destination, not far from Lan Kwai Fong, the clubbing district Hermione was getting weirdly familiar with, all Hermione could see of the base of the building were a mass of men dressed in black holding preposterously large cameras.
Oh hell.
Cori strode up to the crowd confidently, 'excuse me'-ing and pushing not a little bit to get through, with Hermione following silently in her wake. As they made it through, she could see a large standing board with the company logo printed all over it, and a slightly used red carpet leading to the front entrance of the building. Cori was speaking to a haughty looking woman holding a clipboard, who was giving the two of them the 'up down'.
"We're on the list. Under Sussman and Granger…. There!"
The woman went through the motions of striking them off the list, verifying who they were using their phone numbers. The paparazzi, realizing that they weren't simply some people trying to get into an exclusive party, started vying for pictures. Noticing the hubbub, Cori grinned and pulled Hermione over to the board and started posing, all the while giving Hermione encouraging looks, and revelling in the limelight.
"Miss, miss! This way please."
"Can we get your names? In case this goes in the paper."
While they were going through this slightly intimidating process, someone else had arrived. And instead of having to push their own way through the hoard of paparazzi, and a large, burly man, who wouldn't have looked out of place in the Olympics for weight-lifting, was simply wading his way through, not really caring who he pushed aside. Following behind, and getting practically mugged by the paparazzi, was a slender, exquisite young man, with an older woman on his arm who was equally stunning, in a rather slinky and form-fitting dress. Both were smiling in an exceptionally bored manner, simply going through the motions of being famous.
"Is this your son, Ms. Zabini? Very handsome."
"He looks so much like you. This way please."
"You're looking wonderful tonight ma'am. Can we have a picture?"
Hermione looked at Cori, who was waving to no other than Blaise Zabini, and then turned, slack-jawed to stare at Zabini himself, who was gliding his way forward with his mother, looking quite the part of up-and-coming socialite. He lifted an eyebrow, and noticing her horrified look and gaping mouth, said quietly "Granger, have the decency of closing your mouth. It won't be very flattering looking like a whale-shark in the newspaper."