I need to feel your glowing [amara]

I NEED TO FEEL YOUR GLOWING.

Wizarding London fashion week party. This was going to be the most phenomenal night of his life or it should have been. Beautiful women, food, free endless amounts of booze! What more could he ask for? Oh yeah, not to be stuck doing an article for the Daily Prophet. How had he even been booked to write for this show? It was definitely something stuck up old women did and then commented on how slutty the outfits were and how thin the women looked. Well, he was going to change that -- he was actually going to interview someone for once instead of just writing their responses in someone else's voice. Not that Jonas really thought fashion was all that important, but to others it was everything.

Jonas twirled his quill in his hand and quirked an eyebrow while surveying the room. Who to talk to? Everyone looked so important and busy, there were women talking to higher up reporters who looked like they were salivating and Jonas frankly didn't want to come off as the creepy guy who was just there to stare at hot women's cleavage. Ugh, sports reporting was where he belonged; how was he supposed to even know what to ask when he did actually find someone to converse with?

Hmm.

Just then a woman who looked like the most petite and most breathtaking woman in the entire place stepped forward, it looked as if she was crossing the room and immediately he knew he needed to grab her and talk to her, blinking twice he looked at her a little more closely. Was that Amara? It looked like her and he had heard she was doing some modeling but he had no idea she was doing something as big as this show. This was just his lucky day he supposed. Quickly making a move towards her, he stopped her from moving any further. "Amara?" he asked, with his pale blue eyes beaming curiously at her. "Amara Cast?" he repeated.

If it was her, she had certainly grown up since the last time the two spoke; they had been pen pals over their school years and had met once or twice before. He prayed it was indeed her though, it would make this night a whole lot more interesting.

Of course she was running late. Always running late. Bugger.

Amara Cast hurried through the streets of London, unable to apparate without Muggles around her noticing. Running would have to do. It was not quite so easy though, seeing as the girl was wearing heels that made her five inches taller. Although she was known for her grace, running in heels on cobblestone roads was still no easy feat. She had just finished a fashion show and was on her way to the after party. However, she always took extra long to get ready. It took her a long time to remove all of the glitter and feathers she had been wearing in her last elaborate runway show earlier in the evening. She now wore a short flowy little emerald dress and her long black cloak, the hood up. She made sure to take back alleys until she reached her destination. She had decided to ditch her security guard earlier in the evening, before she slipped out in the streets of London. She hated being stood over constantly, even if it was for her own protection against crazed fans.

She arrived to the after party, a little pink in the face. She took of her cloak and was immediately handed a glass of the finest champagne. Smiling a little bit, she brought the drink up to her lips and looked about her environment. Tons of familiar faces of other models and prominent witches and wizards of the fashion world filled the room. Who to talk to? Truth be told, Amara never really knew what to say at these things. She just really enjoyed a good party and great food, which these parties always provided. She supposed she was really only invited because of how much her career had taken off recently; she was becoming a little infamous for being a “bad” girl. Amara was a light weight when it came to booze, and as soon as she had a drop her filter quickly disappeared. She was quite blunt, and a little wild. Last party she could be found dancing on top of the piano, kicking off her heels. It made some of the older and stuck up witches and wizards annoyed, but to the younger generation, Amara's wild spirit was renowned.

Hearing her name, Amara stopped in her tracks. She turned around and found herself staring at a man holding a quill. A reporter. Her pale blue eyes met his, and there was something extremely familiar about this guy but she couldn't put her finger on it. A coy little grin tugged at the sides of her full pink lips, and she raised an eyebrow at Jonas. “Yes, it's me,” her voice was smooth like warm honey. She eyed Jonas, trying to figure out what was so familiar about him. Did he interview her before? No.... that wasn't it... Her browns furrowed slightly in concentration. How did she know him?