Author Topic:  addicted to madness [harlan]  (Read 188 times)

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  • Offline Honey Bea Flume
  • addicted to madness [harlan]
    « on: January 10, 2018, 07:04:19 PM »
    Honey Bea needed a drink.

    Christmas was getting closer and if she didn’t pay close enough attention, she would fall behind. Normally, Thursdays, the one day a week Honeydukes was closed, was a day for catching up on paperwork and making sure she was fully prepared for any upcoming events. Christmas was one big event in itself and the closer it got, the more and more last minute owl orders came in. Her father had offered to help her out, but she had been self-sufficient for this long, she was determined to do it again.

    But she was almost so busy and so sleep deprived that she was almost looking forward to the one week after Christmas that Honeydukes would be closed. Almost. Usually she only made it a day or two into her holiday before she had to pop back to Scotland, just to check on the shop, make a quick batch of truffles to ease the tension that set in during family time. This year promised to be slightly more stressful, as not only would she be spending time with her own family, but Will’s as well. She was trying not to think about it too much, sure she was just working herself up about it all for no reason. She knew he had no reason to embarrass her in front of her family, was nearly certain the same thing could be said about herself with the Dashers.

    So yes, she welcomed the distraction that Christmastime at Honeydukes provided her. She had spent the entire day in the kitchen, never pausing for a proper meal, only taste testing as she moved throughout the day. The hard work was paying off, though, as she had moved through the majority of the owl orders, almost fulfilling the quota of chocolates she needed to have sent out by the end of the weekend. All that just to say that yes, she needed a drink. Specifically, she needed a drink she didn’t have to make herself.

    She fiddled with the strings of her apron, pulling it up and over her head after getting it untied, using the clean underside of it to wipe the biggest smears of powdered sugar, chocolate, and Christmas-colored icing from her face. The Three Broomsticks on a weeknight didn’t require much more effort than that, if even that much. Tucking the few wisps of red hair that had come loose from her bun behind her ears, Honey moved through Honeydukes proper and out the door. Hands instinctively tugged at the sleeves of her sweater, the December air drastically colder than it had been in her kitchen. But Hogsmeade had yet to see snow this season and her destination was just a few door down, so she didn’t turn back.

    Most of the shops only had extended hours on the weekend, even during the holidays; she wasn’t surprised to find the high street deserted. Arms folded across her chest, Honey set off, keeping her head down against the breeze. Her gaze snapped up and over as she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She raised her head and her hand, expecting to wave to the passing shopkeeper she was bound to know.

    It took a second to register just who she was waving at: Harlan Bellamy. She stopped and lowered her hand. He was stepping out of the quidditch supply shop, saying something to the unseen owner who remained indoors. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t happy to see him, hopeful that this unexpected sighting went as well as the last one. It had at least stopped her from being mad at him, which was enough. He wasn’t looking at her, either hadn’t noticed her or had and was deciding to ignore her. Either way, she wanted his attention.

    She waited until the door to the shop had closed behind him to pull two fingers up and whistle across the street at him. As soon as his head turned in her direction, she added a rather loud, “Oi, can I get your autograph?”

    @Harlan Bellamy

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  • Offline Harlan Bellamy
    • every day is a new box, boys.
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    Re: addicted to madness [harlan]
    « Reply #1 on: January 14, 2018, 06:25:16 AM »
    No part of damage control was appealing to Harlan Bellamy; the inauthenticity was like oil to the water of his stubborn nature. He dwelled silently on this fact as he meticulously and methodically signed each piece of Gravesend Griffins merchandise. He worked his way through every bat, jersey and scarf in the shop without so much as a word spoken aloud. The captain's signature was committed to muscle memory just as much as riding his own broom was, but after a while it looked both familiar and foreign in his own eyes. As his quill furiously worked away to address each Christmas present that would surely be tucked safely under the tree just days from that moment, Harlan watched as his own name looked more and more like someone else's.

    "Yeah, mate, it's no problem, really" The quidditch player put on his best smile for the Hogsmeade shop owner who had thanked him for what seemed like the thousandth time.

    For the local store, having one of the biggest names in the game personally signing Griffins gear was like gold. Apparently. In any other circumstance Harlan would have rather pulled his own hair out than spend his Thursday evening so self righteously, but this day was the exception. After a public altercation that Harlan had, innocently, found himself in the middle of while training in Germany, the Griffins public relations team made it clear that he needed to clean up his image.

    "Thanks, Ger, give us a shout if you need anything else," Harlan took the older man's hand in his own as he escaped through the store front. Albeit briefly, the wizard felt a pang of happiness when he saw the pure gratitude that the man had returned. It was clear that the small act had made an impact, just as the PR team intended when the quiet outing was planned.

    By this time all other shops in the area were closed which was a welcome reprieve for the man. Initially, Harlan had planned to simply apparate home to London, but the promise of a solitary stroll through a haunt from his Hogwarts years was enough to make him think twice. Maybe it was the nostalgia, but he was feeling open to breaking his own routine for the first time in a long time. Just as the door closed behind him and Harlan looked to his next move, a voice from across the street caught his attention. Shit, someone had spotted him -- quiet night ruined.

    The voice, though, that carried across the brisk December air, was familiar as opposed to new. Honey Bea Flume. Of course. Harlan jiggled the now locked door as if he would rather hide in the supply shop than see her, but turned back with shrugged shoulders when his efforts were proven fruitless. "Depends what you have to offer in return!" He shouted back as a glimmer of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, hot breath visibly making itself known in the frigid air. "Hope you locked up," Harlan glanced in the direction of the all too familiar Honeydukes.
    « Last Edit: January 14, 2018, 06:26:35 AM by Gage »

  • Offline Honey Bea Flume
  • Re: addicted to madness [harlan]
    « Reply #2 on: January 15, 2018, 02:22:10 AM »
    Honey transferred her hand to her hip as she waited, either for him to be completely enthralled or completely repulsed -- there was no inbetween. Either way, she had a smirk ready to go and she tried not to look too pleased when he turned back in her direction. She didn’t offer a reply, instead focusing on that slight, crooked smile as she took a few step toward him. She stopped close to him, but still just a tad farther away than she would have normally. Her arms wrapped around her torso, already outside longer than she had bargained for. “Of course I did. Look what sort of people wander around here this time of night.” She hadn’t locked up but she wasn’t about to admit that, not after only being around him for thirty seconds.

    “Busy day?” They weren’t really ones for small talk, for catching up on each others’ days. She caught glimpses in the paper, on the radio, sent a note whenever it felt warranted to draw attention to something. But the past few weeks had been too busy for her to pay attention to much outside of Honeydukes and she found herself wondering what he was up to, rather uncharacteristically.

    Another wind blew and Honey drew her arms tighter across her. “Listen, I’m heading for a drink at the Three Broomsticks. You should join me.” She reached out to graze his arm with her fingers, some innate desire to touch him even in the friendliest way in the most innocent of situations. He was apprehensive about her suggestion, or at least that’s how she interpreted his lack of response. Was that a look in response to drinking, drinking with her, or drinking in a public place? It had to be the last one, she refused to accept any other reason.

    “Or a drink at the shop? I have scotch.” It had been convenient that both Harlan and Will liked the same drink, letting her harness those efforts needed to do double the liquor shopping into something much more productive and enjoyable. Now that she was only seeing Will and not even seeing that much of him (her own schedule’s fault) she had plenty of scotch to share.

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  • Offline Harlan Bellamy
    • every day is a new box, boys.
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    • Gage
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      Played in June 30, 2001 charity game for Hogwarts as a Nova Gravesend Griffins Fan Contributed at least once to MH Quidditch lore
    Re: addicted to madness [harlan]
    « Reply #3 on: January 15, 2018, 03:37:12 AM »
    Grey eyes, intensified by the brisk winter air, flicked between Honeydukes' storefront that was just out of sight and the redheaded owner who had made her way to him with arms tucked into her torso. Over the course of the last year, he and Honey Bea Flume had gotten to know each other well. In fact, there was a time when they saw each other more than Harlan had cared to admit. The vulnerability that he had shown the woman was not something he planned on letting happen again. Despite this though, and the inevitable butting of heads, Harlan was drawn to her company - infuriatingly so.

    Harlan scanned the empty streets to look for the 'sort of people' referenced in Honey's response before turning back to her, the feigned confusion painted across every feature. It may have been because he had been cooped up in a quidditch supply shop for the last five hours, but he was feeling uncharacteristically playful.  "Good," He nodded through pursed lips.

    Before the man could even contemplate the question about his day, Honey let him know of her own plans for the evening. Harlan fought a smirk. Maybe he wasn't the only one that was feeling the inexplicable daw. The Three Broomsticks, though, had stopped him in his tracks. The place was likely to be filled to the brim with people escaping the cold, and dealing with the recognition was not something he was keen on, visibly so. Honey had caught on, and offered an alternative, much to his delight.

    Harlan leaned into her touch only briefly before turning toward Honeydukes, his answer clear before he had a moment to open his mouth. "Honeydukes," He led the way down the cobblestoned path that had fought the threat of snow thus far. "I'd rather not deal with people," He turned back to Honey to make sure that she was coming behind him, pausing for a moment for her catch up.

    For the most part they walked in quiet. Harlan was not one to fill silence with small talk - they were beyond that now. "How strange to be coming in here without having to break and enter..." Harlan mused as he reached for the front door of the store to open it, stopping to allow her time to get the keys. Just then it dawned on him, though, that perhaps Honey had not been entirely honest - he knew her well by now. He slowly pushed the unlocked door open, clicking his tongue in the process, disappointment clear.

    "Have you really not learned your lesson?" Harlan asked with a shake of the head, holding door for her to enter. For someone who complained so frequently about the manner in which the two of them met, it seemed she actually hadn't learned a lesson. Harlan was comforted by the scent of freshly baked goods and the warmth of the indoors, his shoulders relaxing almost immediately. Once indoors, the man scanned over the boxes of goods that were cloaked in the darkness of the closed shop, reading the various labels.

    Harlan shrugged off his coat and placed it over the front counter before leaning against it to face the woman. "So, how's business?" He asked, a grin pulling at the side of his mouth. It was the question that he'd asked her every time they had run into each other of the last few months, small talk that he knew was just as unbearable for her as it was for him. In reality, he was curious about what she been up to, and he hoped that she picked up on it.
    « Last Edit: January 15, 2018, 03:41:09 AM by Gage »

  • Offline Honey Bea Flume
  • Re: addicted to madness [harlan]
    « Reply #4 on: January 16, 2018, 02:29:47 AM »
    “Honeydukes.” She found herself repeating after Harlan, taken aback just a bit as he walked away, toward her shop, toward her home, without so much as a second glance. She took off after him, a step or two behind, her arms drawn back in toward herself. She quirked an eyebrow at his next words, unsure if she should be grateful he was making such a sacrifice for her or if she ought to be offended that he didn’t consider her as ‘people’. She smirked, offering a simple, “Of course.” She caught up to him, standing close merely for warmth and surely for nothing else, not sure if she was happy or not that he didn’t have anything else to say. Either way, she didn’t offer up any sort of conversation of her own, still wrapping her mind around seeing Harlan so unexpectedly.

    Honey shrugged off his comment about how strange everything was, not wanting to point out that he had been invited to Honeydukes on a number of occasions. They pulled up to the front door and apparently the one second of hesitation she needed to decide whether or not to pretend to fiddle with the locks was too much. Harlan pushed the door open and Honey rolled her eyes, entering the dark store ahead of him, brushing up against him just the slightest bit as she pushed by him. “Call it wishful thinking.”

    A couple lights had been left on, but there was nothing too glaring overhead, a few dim sconces along the far wall and a little less in the kitchen. Probably for the best considering she hadn’t refreshed her makeup or made sure she had rid her face completely of rogue sugar.

    She let Harlan pass by her as he entered the shop; she stopped short and crossed her arms across her chest as he made himself comfortable against the counter. “See for yourself.” She moved around the counter and into the kitchen, fully expecting him to follow her. The room was in the same state of disarray she had left it in ten minutes ago, trays spread out across the countertops, chocolates cooling and setting haphazardly, the two sinks full to the brim with tomorrow’s dishes. It was chaos, yes, but organized chaos. She knew where everything was, which step in the recipe she had stopped on with every different batch, knew exactly where she would pick up tomorrow -- or, more likely, later that evening when she decided she could save her sleeping for her holiday.

    “Scotch?” She left for the pantry without waiting for an answer, grabbing a half-full bottle from the lower shelf of liquor. One hand full, Honey bent down to peer through the other bottles for her own choice. She wanted to continue on with her ‘least amount of work possible’ decision about drinking this evening, shrugging as she straightened up with only the Scotch in hand, deciding it had the best work to alcohol ratio. She opened the bottle and took a quick swig, shivering at the burn and the taste before recapping it, not really sure why she was doing it but knowing she needed it all the same.

    She wiped her mouth on her sleeve before she reentered the kitchen, holding the bottle out for Harlan to approve of before she bothered finding a glass for him.

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  • Offline Harlan Bellamy
    • every day is a new box, boys.
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    • Gage
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      Played in June 30, 2001 charity game for Hogwarts as a Nova Gravesend Griffins Fan Contributed at least once to MH Quidditch lore
    Re: addicted to madness [harlan]
    « Reply #5 on: February 13, 2018, 04:05:51 AM »
    Harlan had half a mind to stay in the front of the store, to make Honey wait, to not do exactly what she had expected him to. But alas, he was drawn to the dimly lit kitchen like a moth to a flame. As the light flicked on and intensified, revealing the threshold of where the business owner perfected her craft, Harlan's legs moved without question.  Not even the strongest force guiding his decision making, stubbornness, was going to stop him now. As he stepped through the door to the kitchen, peripheral glimpses of chaos only momentarily captured his attention through the suffocation of red hair and the smell of sweets -- both equal parts familiar and confronting.

    "Someone left in hurry," The quidditch captain spoke to himself, although just loud enough to be heard as he adjusted a pot to fit into another, doing his best to organise the mess. "Scotch," He agreed mildly, cleaning a spot on the counter to sit comfortably as he had so many times before. Steel grey eyes followed Honey's delicate movement to the pantry with interest. "You'd better not be poisoning that," He called out, noting the lapse in time that signified a delay. Harlan leaned back to peer around the corner and caught a glimpse of Honey bending to look through the bottles, his gaze lingering for a moment before he sat back up.

    The wizard did a once over of the bottle of scotch, although he was confident  that she had made a good choice, and gave a nod. He jumped to his feet to reach for the glasses that he knew from experience were just out of her range of height. "You really do need a step-stool back here," Harlan stood deliberately close as he leaned over her to grab two glasses. He stopped with the two glasses between fingers as he turned to face her "Unless you'd fancy for something else?" He presented the glass and waited for the response.

    Once decided, Harlan leaned back against the counter, taking a mouthful of the drink and relishing in the immediate relaxation of his shoulders. While training, he didn't drink much, and the effect of the alcohol was immediate. After having spent the whole night signing merchandise, he needed this. "Big night at the Three Broomsticks?" He inquired. "I hope I'm not keeping you," Harlan met her gaze with a smile. Sure, he was lying, but he had a relatively convincing poker face.

    @Honey Bea Flume
    « Last Edit: February 13, 2018, 04:07:52 AM by Gage »

  • Offline Honey Bea Flume
  • Re: addicted to madness [harlan]
    « Reply #6 on: February 14, 2018, 09:37:45 PM »
    She loosened the cap on the bottle as Harlan gave a nod, catching another whiff to accompany the taste that still lingered on her tongue. Setting the opened bottle on the counter, she offered Harlan a shrug. “Why bother with a step stool when I can have tall men instead?” Honey mused, not taking a step back to put any more space between them, instead appreciating that he had replaced the aroma of the whisky with his own. She shook her head slowly in response to his question, taking the offered glasses from his hand without a word. She poured them out equal amounts, though she knew full well she shouldn’t be drinking as much as him, especially considering she was one good swallow ahead already. She was never good at listening to reason when she was around Harlan.

    Handing a glass off to him, Honey hoisted herself up onto the counter before taking a large sip from her own. “It was going to be,” she said with a shrug, pausing to take another sip, assuming he would know she was lying. Each mouthful was getting easier and easier to tolerate. “You can make it up to me.” She wanted to claim that she meant this in a ‘drink with me’ sort of way, though she wasn’t too confident that she did. She really ought to be more sure of that.

    “Shouldn’t you be busy?” She inquired over the rim of her glass before taking yet another sip, realizing that she was getting farther ahead in alcohol consumption, and setting her glass down between them so she would at least have the three seconds of delay it would take her to pick it up again before her next drink. “You can’t come back from third place in the League without some proper training, y’know.” Not that she had any room to talk; the squad she supported were starting the season in fifth and had fallen out of the playoffs before the Griffins, but that was neither here nor there.

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