Over the next couple of days, Hermione relaxed with Cori, who had opened up to her considerably, having deemed her "less stuffy than before." Hermione had finished and reread the memoir, going further in depth with the details, attempting some of the things the book suggested, and taking some notes of her own.
One day, Cori came into her room to explain that she and Dawn were heading to Singapore for a couple days for a friends' birthday. She was terribly sorry, but she had forgotten, and was worried Hermione would be bored if left on her own.
"No, really, I'll be OK. I'm starting to recognize my way around. So I'll be alright. There's plenty for me to do, and I was actually planning on reading mostly…"
Cori rolled her eyes and left, shaking her head.
So Cori had gone, and Hermione spent her days wandering about town, usually with the memoir tucked into her bag. She had found another hard cover book, some trashy romance novel, and stripped it of it's cover, and used it to cover the memoir. After all, she didn't know if the shimmery effect of the cover was visible to Muggles, and even if it wasn't, she wasn't sure if she wanted to attract attention with it. No harm being safe.
She had found a coffee shop not far from Cori's house, called Pacific Coffee Company, known fondly as PCC, and installed herself as a fixture there over the next few days. And so, sitting in a cosy corner with a large glass of iced tea, Hermione delved into the discoveries of Shi Wu Lian.
Tucked away and used by nature, this magic has the capability to unleash the most natural parts of it's subject and user, the basest and most elemental characteristics of the one manipulating it. For example, someone who is a survivor through brute strength will become stronger, but more capable of utilizing solid items of force, while a wilier being would become more conniving, and subtler in his manipulation of all things. It is interesting to note that someone who has been true to their character will change little: they have already learnt to express their natural desires, while someone who strive to be something other than what they are will be ultimately turned head over heels.
As this brand of magic is so well-governed by natural character, it is understandable that emotion and basic instinct also controls the force of the magic used. Beware, as casting a spell will have varying results in both force and consequence. The spell can also be altered in regard to the users intentions.
Because of the base nature of this magic, sex is very significant, as is blood. Sex between two beings of Enlightenment can have unprecedented effects, and vary according to the character of the individuals. Blood, too, plays a significant role, and can be used to dampen or strengthen a casting, depending on the intention of the user.
This interested Hermione greatly, though she wouldn't admit it. After hearing that Harry had been saved by his mother's love, Hermione had wondered about the role sex would have in similar magic. After all, can sex not also signify love? True to her character, Hermione had searched high and low for references to magic connected with sex, but found nothing that helped her. To her horror, and thanks to her certain level of naivety, she had found hundreds if not thousands of references to spells and potions to make sex more interesting, the sensations more intense, the participating members enhanced, manuals to sex with part-human creatures, and much more. Her search had stopped when she came across an illustration of a woman attempting to have sex with a centaur, when she decided she'd had enough.
But here, she found an immediate reference to magic caused and rooted in sex, and it fascinated her, though she would never say so.
One day, while sitting in her usual corner, her eyes out of focus on the page, fantasizing about all the implications of everything Shi Wu Lian had written, she was startled out of her reverie by someone's presence in front of her.
"… running into you here."
"Huh?"
"Imagine running into you here, I said. By the way, Guillaume says hi, and he thinks you could be a very, very naughty girl. I told him no, because you would rather die before step out of your comfort zone."
"And what exactly do you know about me, Zabini? You know nothing."
"I know that your only friends are Potter and Weasley because you're afraid that new friends may mean that those two goons abandon you. I know you study so hard because you're comfortable in academia, and if you stay in it you won't have to face the world. And the world is a very uncomfortable place."
"And you, Zabini are a spoilt brat who knows nothing about the real world, couldn't give a bloody damn about where you go in life and only give a shit about what people think of you."
"Oh, and sex. I care about sex. Don't forget about that. But that would be hard for you to forget, seeing as you're reading some trashy novel, no? Substituting the real thing for a book. A bit too predictable, don't you think?"
"It's not a trashy novel, you bastard. It's a mem…" She caught herself, and her jaw snapped shut, refusing to say more.
Blaise's brow scrunched in confusion. Here was a book who's cover clearly read "Aphrodite's Temple," and was obviously a smut novel dressed scantily in a sheer veil of Greek mythology. The cover illustration was of a busty woman in a toga that covered nothing, and a muscled worshipper in a loincloth.
"Can I see that? I love Greek myths." Blaise said slowly, extending his hand towards her. She looked at him with a blank face, still holding the book. Realizing she wasn't going to let him see, he did the only thing he could.
He snatched it out of her hands, and sprinted out of the coffee shop with a yelp of success, while trying not to spill his iced latte.
The second he'd grabbed it, Hermione tried to pull it back, but she couldn't have even run after him, her low coffee table in the way, and his legs were much longer besides.
Wonderful. The useless bastard probably can't even understand it, and he's never returning it to me, so I'm never seeing that again. Absolutely wonderful.
So she stuffed the rest of her belongings into her shoulder bag, and left the store in a huff. Hermione walked briskly back to Cori's house, upset at both Blaise and herself.
What a dick!
She arrived at the house, going straight to her room, and pulling out the notebook she'd been using for the memoir. At least she had this. So she sat down to organize and expand on her notes.
Maybe with this I can find out more stuff about this theory. And there's no harm in practicing a little.
The next day, Hermione sat and brooded. She hadn't finished studying that damn book! She had planned to for the day, and now couldn't decide what to do. So she set off to wander about, perhaps go back to Cordeillan Street. It was a weekday, so maybe it wouldn't be as crowded.
She meandered her way over to the bus stop, passing the coffee shop. The bus she needed was just pulling up, so she picked up her pace, and got to it just as the last person in line boarded. She paid and made her way all the way to the back. As she turned to gaze out the window, a flustered and windblown Zabini dashed onto the bus, slipping through the folding door, his hair all over the place, looking wild-eyed. He spotted Hermione and walked down the narrow aisle towards her, but the bus driver said something angrily, and he realized he had forgotten to pay, so he rummaged around in his pockets and dumped a handful of change into the till. He again made his way towards her, despite the lurching bus and her sustained glare.
He sat down in front of her and turned to her furious face.
"Here. You can have it back. I'm sorry." He shoved a wrapped parcel at her.
She just looked at him, so he paused and took a deep breath.
"I thought it was your diary at first, disguised as some shitty book so people wouldn't snoop. But that memoir is amazing."
A somewhat crazed look came into his eyes.
"It's exploring a totally different type of magic, and entirely different approach! It's like finding a new way to breathe! And the things he discusses… spectacular!"
Taken aback, Hermione continued looking at him blankly.
"What's wrong with you Granger? You must've read it already. I read it through last night…"
That snapped her out of her daze. "You read all of it?"
He raised a delicate eyebrow. "Yes. I couldn't stop. Is that a problem?"
"Well, I didn't peg you as someone with enough of an attention span to read a chapter, let alone the entire thing..."
"You know, I was going to ask if you wanted to discuss it at some point. It's possibly the most exciting thing I'm going to find all summer. But seeing as you're on such intellectual high ground here, I'll just leave you be." He turned around in his seat, and Hermione stared at the back of his head for a moment.
"Wow, Zabini. I'm sorry…" before she could finish, he had whipped around in his seat and was talking rapidly.
"Excellent. Now that we're somewhat equal, I know you're free tomorrow night, so dinner in Central at Harlan's, 8 o'clock. Bring the book. Now I'm not staying one more moment on this filthy bus, so I'll see you then."
And he got up and staggered to the front of the bus for the next stop.
What the hell?
She hefted the cloth-covered book in her hand, and opened a corner of the wrapping. She saw the strange sheen of the books cover glinting through the hole.
Well, there's no harm in double-checking. He is Slytherin after all.
So the next evening, Hermione got herself dressed and prepared to go for dinner, hopefully complete with some intellectually discussion, with Blaise Zabini. She had considered not going, but she knew she would have felt terrible about it. Plus, she had really wanted to talk over the memoir with someone, and as much as she hated to admit it, none of her friends would have been interested, or really understood, for that matter. Here was an opportunity for her to discuss it, and if Zabini was just wanting to amuse himself by insulting her all evening, she could just leave, after all.
She again made her away to the nearest bus stop, and once arriving in Central, found her way to Harlan's, getting lost only twice. She stepped into the restaurant and immediately felt underdressed.
I should have known. Casual dinner and a chat with Zabini is bound to be in a restaurant with three Michelin stars and a celebrity chef. Of course.
The foyer she stepped into was well lit, with plush modern sofas. An entire wall had been replaced with a sheet of glass, overlooking the harbour, and creating a stunning view. The maitre d' gave her a quick once over, and raised an immaculately plucked eyebrow at her jeans.
"I believe there's a reservation under Zabini?"
The maitre d' looked stunned, but gestured for her to follow. The willowy Asian woman led Hermione through the restaurant, which had the muffled quality that generally permeates many such ridiculously expensive establishments, as if patrons and employees alike were afraid to disturb the wealth. Several small groups were seated throughout the restaurant, and two couples actually raised their eyebrows at her attire. Hermione simply tried to hide behind her hair, and walked a little faster.
They got to a corner table next to the window, where Zabini was seated, looking bored. He was wearing a dress shirt and jeans, but oozed wealth, and his clothing was obviously of some exclusive make. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow, before pulling a money clip out of his pocket.
"You are going to go upstairs and buy at least a pair of heels, to be worn immediately. You will also try to arrange what you are wearing into something appropriate for outside the house. Take my credit card. You can leave your bag here. Susannah, will you take her upstairs?
The maitre d', Susannah, looked extremely relieved that her newest customer would actually look like she belonged in the restaurant. Hermione gaped at Zabini.
"But I can't…"
Zabini just looked at her, and Susannah gripped her by the elbow, and pulled her out of the restaurant, leading her to an escalator that took them to a quiet boutique perched above the restaurant. Still disgruntled, Hermione quickly went through the racks of clothing and shoes.
Well, if he's going to treat me like that, he is going to pay.
She picked out a pair of black patent leather heels, a slinky white top and an expensive looking belt with a silver buckle in the shape of a shell. Keeping her jeans, she changed and gave the cashier the credit card. The total came to a total of $17,050 HKD* which almost had her return everything. But she steeled herself and went through with it.
He can blame himself for this later.
So the satisfied maitre d' led her back to Zabini's table. He nodded at her fresh clothing, and barely fluttered an eyelash when she handed him his credit card and receipt.
"I'm hungry, so food first. I recommend the seafood."
They ordered, and chatted as they ate, both making an obvious effort not to discuss their social circles. Hermione felt that he had changed somewhat, and seemed more intense somehow.
His eyes bored into her as she suddenly said, "You look different from the last time I saw you. You look… wilder. Feral, even."
"Is this some awkward attempt to insult me?"
"No, no. I think it's the magic. You've been toying with it, right? See I was right, you are repressed!"
Hermione rolled her eyes at him, but it had gotten her thinking.
More feral, eh? Well, I have been acting out somewhat, recently. But that's just summer, right? You relax and let loose…
She looked up when Blaise started speaking again, but his voice was so low she struggled to pick out the words.
"I think it has changed me, too. I've been extremely restless over the past few days. And much, much more impulsive than usual. Impatient as well. And my libido's been in overdrive. Just reading the page in the book about magic and sex had me absolutely raring to go."
Hermione blushed, and had a terrible urge to laugh. Though she doubted it, she was concerned that Zabini may have practiced with the magic enough to bring out the worst in him, as well as the best. She looked at him and noticed that his eyes, originally hazel, had changed to nearly green. But perhaps it was the lighting. He turned to her and suddenly smiled, flashing his even, white teeth.
Mum and dad would be impressed.
He waved over a waitress, and ordered two glasses of bourbon. Horrified, Hermione tried to indicate that she ddin't want it, but he insisted.
"It's a Tuesday night, Zabini!"
He simply shrugged.
So the drinks were brought, and while Hermione sipped minimally at hers, Blaise downed his measure of the amber fluid in several mouthfuls. They then proceeded to discuss the memoir, arguing here and there over different interpretations of the theories, and getting wild-eyed over the potential they held. The waitress occasionally stepped forward to refill Blaise's glass, which to Hermione's concern, he was emptying repeatedly at an alarming rate.
Their talk wandered about, but never strayed far from the theories, and the strong alcohol proved to be a wonderful lubricant for more outlandish and fantastical theories of their own.
The night wore on, and soon they were the only two left in the restaurant. Around 11, Blaise again waved over a waitress and paid the bill, but when he stood, Hermione noted uncomfortably that he had to take a moment to steady himself. The two left, and ambled over to a nearby taxi stand, with Hermione watching Blaise carefully out of the corner of her eye. They stood for a moment in silence, and then he turned to face her.
"I want to try something."
And he leant in towards her. She stood frozen in horror.
I can deal with being attacked by the Whomping Willow, and when fighting off Death Eaters, but when Malfoy's mate leans in to kiss me I can't move?!
His lips firmly brushed hers, and the world seemed to go haywire. With her eyes open, colours had exploded into impossible intensity. The world seemed to scream at her, she could hear the minimal rustle of her clothing, his breathing seemed to be a tornado in her ear. Her skin felt like someone was running and electric current over it, she could feel the blood pulsing in his lips, and her clothing suddenly became a heavy weight on her flesh.
That second, his eyes flashed open in triumph. "I knew it."
And he kissed her again, this time furiously, revelling in the new and extreme sensations. His renewed attack called powerfully to the newly awoken part of Hermione's character, the baser and darker part of her that had been unintentionally buried away under her studies. And it came forth now, wanting to be heard. She kissed him back with equal force, both wanting to take pleasure in him, as well as wanting to take revenge for manipulating her.
Pulling away abruptly, she heard a taxi coming and hailed it. And before it had come to a full stop, she had pulled open the door and was grabbing his hand to pull him in with her. He followed hungrily, and muttered something unintelligible to the driver, presumably his address. Then Hermione pushed him back and straddled his lap, kissing him fiercely, putting all her natural desire behind her lips.
*17,050 HKD = 2,200 USD/1,350 GBP/1,570 EUR