inverness // tuesday morning, 16 september 03
Honey smoothed down the paper after unfolding it and pulled her coffee and bowl of porridge closer as she started skimming, one hand on her mug and the other on her spoon, taking breaks between bites to turn the pages. The sports section was less bare than it usually was in the off season; it didn’t take her more than a couple seconds to realize it was because of that annual quidditch gala the night before. She paused for a moment, trying to picture having gone with Harlan; she doubted he’d have been able to skip it this year, considering his season.
She had another sip of her coffee to distract her, convince herself to scan the article for news of trades, the like, convinced she wasn’t actually scanning for Harlan’s name (but she couldn’t help herself). She turned the page over again to find the spread of photos and there he was. With
her. She checked the caption to prove herself wrong but it only made matters worse.
Harlan Bellamy and date. Honey could have been blissfully unaware that it was the same
her--her name wasn’t anywhere on the page--if she hadn’t met the woman at that quidditch match. But there she was. Gorgeous. Infuriatingly so.
There were definitely emotions now, weren’t there, him and
her. Probably emotions there before, when it had been ‘just a kiss’. That’s what made it cheating, wasn’t it? The emotions. Honey had a weird taste in her mouth, could almost think she was about to be sick, but this was different. Her mind flashed to Will for a second; he’d probably see the same photo and she didn’t want to be alone in her flat when his inevitable owl arrived. She haphazardly refolded the paper with Harlan’s photo facing out and stood up, nearly knocking her chair over in the process.
Honey apparated after another second, reappearing in front of the door to Grace’s flat; normally she would have been more careful about being seen but she wasn’t thinking too clearly now (and she probably looked it, too, pajamas and slippers and well-slept-on hair). She fiddles with the charms on the door and let herself in, yelling for Grace when she wasn’t already right there in front of her. She heard the ‘I’m back here’ response and took off for Grace’s bedroom, thankful that she was there because she couldn’t imagine trying to fit this all into a note.
“Have you seen this?†She waved the paper at her before she brought it to a standstill, tapping her finger of his date’s face as she pointed out the photo. Honey handed her the paper after another second--more like thrust it carelessly into her hands--and turned toward the bed, flopping down onto it dramatically, burying her face in the blankets for a minute before rolling up and propping herself up on her elbows. “That’s her.
Bérénice,†she said, her hautiest French accent on display. Grace knew about everything with Harlan, last week and Audrey’s party included, so she fully expected her to be just as mad as she was.
@Grace Howard 
