It was the morning of the first task in the Tetrawizard Tournament, and Darian had come up early to Hogsmeade to break his fast at one of the tiny cafes. It was a fine day already, hot but with a sweet cool breeze, and Darian sat in one of the iron chairs outside and tipped his head back in the sun. Loose curls fell away from his face, revealing the shape of his strong jaw, pert nose, and sharp cheekbones; the light through shuttered lashes turned his world red, and he smiled slowly in pleasure.

In a few hours the task would begin, and he would change clothes (something brighter, more formal, more house spirit), find someone interesting to sit with, and watch Erin compete. The curiosity was delicious to indulge in - how would his cousin do? If it was a physical task, then this would be very fine to watch. Otherwise this could be a tad embarrassing for Landis and the rest of Slytherin House, not to mention Hogwarts - Darian turned the thought over in his mind, savoring it like a sweet, not really concerned about the implications of Erin's failure but delighted for the potential drama.

Musing idly over this and other things, he stretched like a cat. His back arched under his thin silk shirt; his toes curled in his fine leather shoes. Being lazy was the very greatest of pastimes, and though he had the promise of excitement later that day he was enjoying himself very much now. He took a leisurely sip of coffee, eyes falling at half-mast as he watched the crowd.

Morning time was evil, but for some reason she had woken up unnaturally early, despite it being a Saturday. Granted, unnaturally early on the weekend meant that she woke up around 9:00 AM. She did not usually go to the Great Hall for breakfast, not wanting to socialize with her coworkers until she had time to herself to relax, drink something caffeinated, and think. During the other meals (Lunch, dinner, whatever), of course she was social—but breakfast time was her personal time. She refused to counsel anybody at this time in the morning, knowing that she would be far too impatient, far too irritable, and far too tired to be of any use. The only exception was in emergencies.

Thankfully, it was a weekend. Her nice work clothes were put neatly away, and replaced with a purple sundress, a grey cardigan, and yellow flats. She was sitting at a table in the café, breaking off pieces of some sort of breakfast pastry and dipping it in her tea. Her curly hair was pulled back into a casual, messy low ponytail-bun combo. Needless to say she looked comfortable, relaxed, and a bit tired. Mai wasn’t paying attention to anything, but was just lost in her thoughts. She enjoyed working at Hogwarts, she enjoyed her coworkers, and she enjoyed the students that she had worked with.

Mai was starting to feel like she fit in with the staff, and was making friends among them. Aileen Reid was one professor that Maiko found herself completely fascinated with. She felt like the woman was beautiful, physically attractive, and had an alluring ice-queen personality. However, she had a feeling that pursuing such a relationship was futile. Aileen did not seem the type who would want to date women, or even date in general.  She was so distracted by her thoughts, that the next time she dipped the pastry in the tea, the tips of her fingers hit the hot surface.

“Merde!” She cursed, dropping the pastry into the tea and examining her fingers. Nothing serious, the redness would go away in a minute or two. The woman was completely unaware of the fashion designer sitting a table or two away. Though, if she had realized that Darian was there, Mai wouldn’t have cared—it wasn’t like they had been friends when they attended Hogwarts.

"Merde!"

The sharp exclamation caught his ear; Darian turned his head, instinctively seeking its source. Only a couple of tables away sat a girl, likely a part of the Beauxbatons delegation here for the tournament this afternoon - curly hair, the hint of a pert nose from his one-quarters view, and shoulders hunched under her cardigan. Even as he watched the tension in them eased. A momentary problem, then, but still he called out, "Madamoiselle, etes-vous allez bien?" And, leaning forward until he caught sight of her hands hovering like startled birds over her cup, the fingertips of one just blushing red, "Ah, il est seulement une petite blessure. Je pourrais lui donner un baiser si ça pouvait aider....?"[1]

1.	"Miss, are you all right? [...] Ah, it is only a little hurt. I could give it a kiss if that would help...?"

She was going to resume eating when she heard somebody address her, or at lesat she thought she was being addressed; Mai looked around until she saw that yes, someone was indeed talking to her. She raised her eyebrows at him, not quite sure how to respond. He didn’t sound like he was French, but he definitely knew his way around the language. She also noticed that he used the formal version of ‘you,’ and Maiko didn’t particularly like it. “Tu, pas vous.”[1] She corrected gently, a smile dancing on her lips.

“Et...” She examined the tips of her fingers again. Already, the redness had faded. “Je vais bien.”[2] Maiko couldn’t help but let out a laugh-- it seemed that she was dealing with quite the flirt, but she wasn’t opposed to it either. She signed with mock disappointment, “Malheureusement,. un baiser n'est pas nécessaire.”[3] The counselor looked over Darian; he seemed familiar. Perhaps he went to school with her? His face was familiar, though she couldn’t put a finger on the name.

“Je suis désolé, mais,[4],  do I know you?” Maiko asked, switching effortlessly into English.“You look and sound familiar.” Right now, she so detested the part of the brain whose job it was to tell you that something was familiar, but refused to tell you what it was. 

1.	(informal you), not (formal you)
2.	I am fine.
3.	Unfortunately, a kiss will not be necessary/is not necessary.
4.	I'm sorry, but

She turned to look at him and he realized his mistake: not a girl, a woman, though she was so petite he'd thought... Well, her face was more mature, not to mention - from the front - her figure. Yum. And so familiar already, Darian liked that. He tilted his head at her, letting warmth creep into his eyes and his smile; laying a hand over his heart, he nodded at the request.

“Malheureusement, un baiser n'est pas nécessaire // Unfortunately, a kiss will not be necessary."

He sighed, a sweet little breath of mock-disappointment. "Quel dommage."[1]

The truth of the matter was that she looked vaguely recognizable to him too, though he couldn't put his finger on it; she obviously wasn't a Beauxbatons student as he'd originally pondered, but she could well be a faculty member or family of one of the Champions. Her English was flawless, though faintly accented. If she was French, and recognized him.... he'd lived in Paris for a time when he was much younger, and still traveled there frequently for fashion shows. He hoped she wasn't one of his one-night stands. It was so embarrassing when he forgot those.

"Do you?" he asked, brows raised, mouth a perfect cupid's 'o', but he hopped up right enough and bent over her hand like a gentleman. It wasn't as impressive as it would have looked had he been wearing one of his customary finely-fitted silk or velvet suits, but needs must when the devil drove. At least a face like his never went out of fashion. "Darian Morgan, of Libertine Ltd. brand. I must admit that you are rather familiar as well, your face and your - " his eyes flitted over her, then widened almost imperceptibly - "hair. Oh, you went to Hogwarts! Mmm, a few years younger, Hufflepuff... Maiko, isn't it?" Her last name was a mouthful that he wasn't certain he remembered, not exactly right.

1.	"What a pity."

Darian Morgan.

Oh yes, that’s who it was. She remembered him as Landis’ cousin, a Slytherin a few years older. Mai hadn’t interacted with him much, but she knew who he was. She knew that she had changed in appearance since the last time he saw her, so she was mildly, pleasantly surprised that he recognized her, and even that he remembered her name. She gave him a wide smile and nodded, silently letting him know that he had been correct. “My ‘air? Really?” Mai laughed softly. Yes, her hair was recognizable, but it was such a strange thing for someone to comment on as recognizable. There were plenty of other women with long, dark curly hair.

Maiko motioned towards a seat next to her, inviting him to sit down. It was late enough in the morning that she wouldn’t bite the heads off of anyone who wanted to socialize with her.  As she looked at him, she couldn’t help but think that his face was quite lovely—high cheekbones, defined jaw, and full lips. He definitely seemed like the type of person who would own a clothing line, or even get into modeling. “Tell me, what ‘ave you been doing since you graduated?” Yes, yes, he already let her know what he did for a living, but that wasn't what Mai was asking for.

"Really," Darian confirmed. He made a vague gesture towards his own hair as a substitute for hers, a faint smile curving over his lips. "It's very distinctive - the dark curls, the way you wear it..." She was pleased with him for remembering her name, perhaps even flattered; he wanted to keep it that way, and he had such a good start to build on. The way his eyes lingered on the curve of her neck, the shape of her smile - dark blue eyes, shadowed under low-hung bangs, liquid, intent - had left lesser women weak.

Darian worked best in dim lighting: sunlight made him pretty, angelic even, bringing out the gold hidden in his red red hair and demonstrating the softness in his face instead of the stark angles. Sunlight made it hard to smolder. But if he depended on mood lighting to spark that kind of interest, what kind of charmer was he?

He rescued the mug from his own table at her invitation, sliding into a seat across from her all smiles and courteous attention. "I traveled for a while," he said, giving half a dismissive shrug though still clearly pleased to have been asked. "I spent a couple of years in Paris, Hungary, Italy...." It was so nice, no? Catching up. So domestic, so ordinary it was restful. He basked in that warmth instead of letting the conversation turn dark, that easy connection between "traveling" and "getting out of the country after You-Know-Who left everything a shattered, uneasy mess." The man hunts, the pockets of DE resistance, rebuilding a Ministry torn asunder - wartime concerns lingering, a lack of trust. Not to mention the psyche of the students who'd stayed at Hogwarts under the Death Eaters, a group that included Darian and Maiko. It was what anyone would assume out of his easy words, though in fact it was not the truth. Convenient excuse, though. "I came back and apprenticed at Twilfit & Tattings, then opened my own clothing shop. I've been in business... five years now? Perhaps six. But you - what have you been doing?"

She put down her pastry and picked up her tea, taking a sip, glancing up at Darian, listening intently, leaning forward to show interest. She took a sip, thankful that it had cooled down to the point where it would not burn the inside of her mouth. There were few things more unpleasant than a burnt tongue. He seemed like he had travelled quite a bit—much more than Maiko had. Of course, she had been to France—she was born there, and had lived there until her grandparents retired to Ireland. To maintain the relationship, and for financial reasons, her parents had moved to Ireland with them as well.

Now that Darian was sitting down, it gave Maiko a chance to truly take his appearance in, and hse had to admit to herself that she did find him to be handsome—Maiko adored his high cheekbones and full lips. She suspected that under his bangs, was a forehead that ought to have been called a fivehead, though she felt like it was best not to comment. It was cute,  but foreheads weren’t exactly something you wanted to talk about during first impressions.

Maiko set the tea cup down and gave Darian a bright smile, it was customary to ask others how they’d been doing—it was natural. People were willing to share information as long as others were willing to reciprocate. Humans enjoyed feeling trusted, and they craved social interaction. Mai knew that she was no exception.

“After school, I got custody of my younger brother.” Mai said fondly, she and Kohaku had always had a close relationship, though she still tried to mother him—and that was something that Kohaku felt he was too old for now. “Got engaged, broke off the engagement, flirted with beautiful women. The usual.” She spoke casually, openly—and her tone was a rather content one. Maiko was clearly very happy with the way her life was going right now. She saw the past as ancient history, though it hadn’t happened that long ago. Like everybody else, she did have her regrets—but she learned to live with them,, and in some ways she was oddly proud of them.

 “I went in training at St. Mungos for a couple years, and I also went to a Muggle school.” If he wanted to know what she studied, he could ask. Wizards tended to be a bit wary of muggle sciences. “I was a healer, but then I quit when I realized I wanted to work with the muggle population for a while. Then I got ‘ired at Hogwarts as a counselor.” Maiko shrugged, “It doesn’t sound like my life has been quite as exciting as yours.”  The counselor raised her eyebrows, “But I must say, je suis heureuse. I wouldn’t change anything, even if I got the chance.”

He inclined his head towards Maiko as she spoke. Lips slightly parted, eyes lit with interest, he listened as though there was nothing more fascinating in the world. Possibly, for Darian, there wasn't. He knew the flattery inherant in listening - he was completely aware of his own charm, his looks, the effect that he could and did have when he acted just so. His self-confidence was astounding. But he would not be so popular, with his wide social circle and reporter darlings, if he wasn't also genuinely interested in people. He loved people. They fascinated him with their alien motivations and desires, their different life stories. He was prone to wild infatuations, quick-struck love or lust (whichever sounded prettier) helpless even against the melodious sound of one voice. It was, for someone who surrounded himself with others, a weakness easy to indulge in.

He indulged in it now. Maiko' honesty was refreshing, sweet as the morning sun and breeze. She was a pleasure to listen to, to look at, to adore. She was not fake, not calculated, so different from the world he moved in which, though he loved it, placed overwhelming value on artiface. Just old school friends! What a lovely change of pace.

"Aww," he said happily, and twined his hands together - clearly, from his approval of the act, an older brother himself. "Well, that's certainly what I'd do after a broken engagement."

She'd worked at St. Mungo's and been to muggle school and now was in Hogwarts, so many exciting places he hardly knew where to start. He laughed, enjoying her contentment on a second-hand basis, pleased that she was so easy to know and talk with. "Whatever did you study?" He decided was his first question, interested as he was by all things muggle. He knew a fair bit more than most purebloods due to his strong belief that muggles were as fair pickings to a debonair playboy as any other person. To his great and eternal delight what they did not possess in magic they made up for in inventiveness. He liked that they thought him enigmatic, a fey lover, here and gone again after becoming entranced for three hours by their large moving TVs. And: "You have been exposed to rather a lot of my family between St.Mungo's and Hogwarts. How wonderful it is that you're working there now!"

He smiled at her, cupping long fingers lightly around his mug. "It's not the content of the life that matters, but the outcome. If you are happy then I'd say you've done very well for yourself since our school days."

Her job consisted of listening, listening, and more listening. She was essentially a professional listener. Mai knew she would be complete shite at her job if she did not know how to pay attention to what the meaning behind people’s words were. She needed to take in all aspects of language, from the tone of another person’s voice, to the stiffness of their shoulders. Because it was part of her nature to listen to others as well as part of her job, she was not at all used to the reverse: somebody who was willing to listen to her. It was a nice change, but it was so foreign and unfamiliar that it was uncomfortable.

But it was uncomfortable in a good way, in the weird pushing-your-own-personal-boundaries kind of way. It was flattering, and it made her feel like she was someone worth having a conversation with, and she didn’t always feel that way around people. Of course, a few of her closer friends made her feel that way, but Darian was new. He was someone she had always known of, but never actually been close to. This was probably the most the two had ever talked during all their time at Hogwarts. Darian wasn’t just listening to her now—he was giving her feedback. He was asking her questions. It was endearing, and it made him all the more attractive in her eyes.

“Psychology. I studied psychology.” She replied, “I ‘ave a masters, but I’m working on my psy.d. I just need to write the final paper, but—“ She shrugged, “It’s a lot more work than I expected, or than I have time for.” She leaned forward and placed one of her hands on top of his arm. Where he was pale and almost luminescent, she was tan and almost olive toned. The contrast was striking, and Mai loved just how different he looked from her, they were practically opposites. “Psychology is only my second passion.” Mai’s chin was tilted downwards, though her eyes were looking up at the tailor, sparkling as if she was about to reveal a huge secret (though, it really wasn’t a secret at all.)

“My first passion is ballet.” She bit her bottom lip and gave Darian a giddy smile, “What about you, Darian?”

"Psychology," he repeated thoughtfully, a less common word in wizarding society but not so uncommon he didn't know what it meant. Wizards liked to make everything sound so arcane - generally it was Studies of the Mind, or maybe, Headology. 'Masters,' now that was a muggle word. He heard it so often from university students in muggle London that he hadn't the slightest intention of admitting he had no idea the steps involved in, presumably, mastering a subject. "I wonder, when you finish, do you get a fancy robe? Or perhaps a placard. University education is unfortunately a mystery to me." A school for adults, he knew, though seven years of education at Hogwarts for him had been enough.

“My first passion is ballet.”

She was a ballerina. How utterly delicious.

Darian laughed, a bare puff of sound. Yes, he could see this petite woman dancing. He could picture the smooth stretch of her limbs, indulged in the perfect mental image of her swaying as she threw back her head. Darian dipped into the art world enough on social occasions to know what he looked for in categories other than fashion. The romance and tragedy of traditional ballets did not move him, but he knew well the lines of the human body and he had a deep appreciation for what it could do. The lean musculature of the dancers, the arch of their backs and the quiver in their thighs, left even a reprobate like him sighing. Oh, longing, how they bent their bodies like bows to their craft. Did Maiko dance like that, he wondered, all tight muscles and carefully choreographed abandon, controlled, precise? Or did she give herself to her passion and let the music ride her limbs? Either way, it was sure to be breathtaking. Breath quickening. The sensual and the aesthetic so often blurred in art.

"I'd like to see that someday," he said honestly, letting sincerity show in his eyes.  He kept his warm appreciation for the moment to himself, thoughts of how flexible she must be, how good with her feet. His voice dropped as he leaned in, drawn by the touch of her hand on his arm. "I bet it's a beautiful sight." (Only mostly to himself. He was a wicked man.)

Body angled towards Maiko, he looked at her as she gazed up through her eyelashes at him. His eyes were equally intent, and his lips curved in a roguish red bow. His tea was quite forgotten, being considerably less tasty than other offered treats. "Oh, I have so many," he purred, head bent towards hers in confidential secrecy. "It has always been my good fortune to be supremely interested in almost everything. I pick up things quickly, and apply particular passion to all my talents. For instance, you would be amazed at the things one can learn in foreign climes..."

“Oui, psychology.” Mai clarified, “Simply put, it’s the muggle science of studying the mind and human behavior.”  She had read up on studies of the magical mind, though she wouldn’t consider her a professional in the matter, like a certain Beauxbatons staff member. “I get a fancy degree when I finish.” She grinned, “Nothing too special. I just like ‘aving the knowledge. People fascinate me.” It was a fascination she knew very well that she had inherited from her mother. It fit perfectly in with her field of study, though it often annoyed people who did not want to be known by her.

As he leaned in, she leaned in as well—she didn’t even have to think about it. She was comfortable, and it felt natural.  “If you’d like to see it, I’d be ‘appy to show you sometime.” She grinned devilishly, and her eyes matched. “Maybe we could dance together sometime.” Those words could have been taken very many different ways, though she meant it quite innocently. She was always looking for people who were willing to put up with her and dance (with or without music.) The dance partner didn’t even need to be particularly good, just expressive, expressive and willing to push past their comfort zone

“Oh, what sort of things ‘ave you learned?” She asked, tilting her head curiously. Darian was a rather unique, spectacular, glorious individual—and far different than her usual type. He was a beautiful balance between feminine and masculine, though the one thing that impressed her the most was his face. His high cheekbones and sultry eyes were difficult to describe with mere words. Some things could not be expressed verbally.  Maiko admired his face, wondering how many men or women had felt so drawn in by not only his appearance, but his subtle mannerisms and alluring expressions. 

She revealed her great drive: a fascination with people. "Me too," Darian agreed, half-fervent, half-delighted at such an opinion shared. It sounded like an amazing line of work, if what she really did to graduate was pick people apart and try to understand their motivations. "Though I suppose the degree on your wall makes you the professional, and I the novice!"

How pretty they must have looked with their heads bowed together; what a very charming picture, and what very charming words were even now tripping lightly off Maiko's lips. They might have looked a couple, or like they were angling for a kiss. Darian had moved in by instinct, unconscious manipulation alone, but he would not have minded the impression their proximity gave. He never did. "I would enjoy that very much," he said, his voice low, his mouth smiling. Naturally he assumed it was an offer. How surprised he would be to learn the truth! Almost no girl would mean otherwise with such a wicked look in her eyes. But then, Darian could dance vertically as well. He would adjust without too much crippling disappointment. Even behaving himself, traditional dancing allowed so very many opportunities to get close.

“Oh, what sort of things ‘ave you learned?”

Such an innocent question, with such a not-so-innocent answer! Darian loved when innuendo led a girl right where he wanted. But this wasn't actually something he'd intended to discuss here in public, at this table, on this warm autumn day. There would be no serious revelations about what he had learned in those years on the Continent, away from staunch British disapproval and society's red stamp. Some things were not for man to know. And some things were not for Ministry men to know he knew. Though not exactly illegal, his specialization depended entirely on intent. Darian preferred to keep knowledge of his talents to himself and a small percentage of the population.

"Oh, too many to name," he said with a wink. Darian often spoke obliquely, but he did so with such charm and grace that no one ever seemed to mind. In his experience, most people were really only waiting for their own chance to talk. He'd keep her intrigued but there was no need to answer the question completely. He started off archly, teasing, then gained speed. "You may have noticed my dazzling confidence, my urbanity, my wit. All gifts of Europe, I swear, it is the proving grounds of unpolished young lads. I know everything from the proper address for a Baron to muggle transport." He waved a hand quickly, dramatically, to encompass the grand breadth of his knowledge. "There are schools of magic better covered in other countries than our own, so many languages to learn, and I greatly enjoyed the history. Though this is perhaps boring, I received a great deal of training in tailoring and design while out of the country. The French especially have much to say on fashion."