new light [honey]

Friday 2 July 2004

The bell tinkered overhead as Charlie slipped into Honeydukes, then held the door open for the customer who was leaving at the same time. She didn’t give him a second look, and he didn’t notice — too busy peering over the shelves to spot Honey. She was at the counter, pressing buttons on the register with her head down. He smiled to himself and silently turned the sign on the door from open to closed, then skirted around to the far aisle quietly, planning to keep out of sight until he was already in front of her.

One hand was behind his back, concealing a hot pink wrapped package — it had taken him longer than he cared to admit to figure out what to get Honey for her birthday. He’d never really noticed her wearing jewellery—and that seemed too serious, one month into ‘officially’ dating, anyway—and he couldn’t ask her brother what to get her because he knew exactly how that conversation would go (Fergie was still using the ‘just moved’ excuse whenever their standing appointment for a pint came up). Couldn’t ask Grace, because he wasn’t sure Grace knew about them yet (she was about to get a rude awakening if she didn’t).
 
Charlie was wearing his usual black jeans and dark t-shirt, had foregone a jacket based on London temperatures and only thought he should have reconsidered upon arriving in a cooler, breezier Hogsmeade. Didn’t really matter though — they weren’t going to be outside.

“Got any cake?” he greeted his girlfriend (his girlfriend — it felt more real, giving her a semi-serious present), stepping out of the aisle with a smirk— then laughing when she jumped at his appearance. Twat, she called him; he grinned wider. “You finishing up or what?” he asked, his arm still unsubtly behind his back.


@Honey Bea Flume

Honey’s shoulders slumped as she lowered her hand from the half-hearted wave she had offered the leaving witch, back to the parchment where she had been scratching away at some long addition. She carried the one, then punched a couple more buttons on the till, then looked back at her parchment when the numbers didn’t match. She wasn’t typically great at arithmetic, but she wasn’t typically this bad at it, either. She wadded up the parchment into a ball and pushed it off to the side, sighing as she pulled a clean piece toward her.

She was more focused on what she needed to tell Grace, that Charlie would be joining them (and Fergie and Edith) for their birthday tonight. And that she had been dating Charlie for six weeks now, never mind the past year of sleeping with him, too. The window for telling her was getting smaller; Grace would be here in a couple hours, so Honey needed to send the owl to Inverness in the next ninety minutes, letting it get there before Grace left to come to Hogsmeade. And then Charlie would be here after that-- Honey had told him to get here after Grace, even though she wasn’t sure who might be more offended Honey hadn’t told her about him, yet.

Honey jumped, dropping her quill as she looked up at the sound of Charlie’s voice. Here. Now. For fuck’s sake. She reached for the wad of parchment and lobbed it at his head. “Twat.” She was thirty-one now; her heart couldn’t handle jump scares like it used to. (It had never been able to.) “Am nearly there,” she said, figuring if Charlie was here now, she was closing early.

And speaking of: “You’re early.” She said it with a smile--as the initial bad surprise wore off and the good surprise settled in--and a pointed look at his arm, his hand behind his back. She brought her gaze back up, meeting his eye as she came around the counter. “I don’t like closing early,” she said with a small smirk, the I don’t do it for just anyone well implied.

The ball of parchment hit his forehead softly and fell back to the counter; Charlie let out a light laugh, not regretting the decision to surprise her.

You’re early. His face fell and he let out a dramatic sigh; “Well, it were bound to happen sometime,” he said, a broad smirk taking over his features before he could completely finish the sentence.

Honey’s eyes darted to the arm folded behind his back, then returned to his face. Charlie wet his lips as she came around the counter, turning on the spot to keep his front to her and the package shielded. She told him she didn’t like closing early and he didn’t bother trying to stifle his smile. “You can keep working if you want to," he offered, calling her bluff — they both knew she didn’t mind when it was for him (and he wasn’t totally inconsiderate, he hadn’t made a habit of it — yet).

“I'll just go wait upstairs with this," he continued playing along, bringing the bright pink parcel around in front of him to wave it about pointedly.

It worked: Honey grabbed for the present and Charlie grinned, not quite letting go until he added a disclaimer: “It’s… not that exciting,” he said, almost apologetically, but he wanted to set her expectations low before she was disappointed — not that he thought she would be, but— Well, there was a chance he’d miscalculated. In some ways materialistic people were easier to please — get them something shiny and expensive and it’d be reight. Honey was… not the opposite of materialistic, but he definitely didn’t think sparkly trinkets would impress her.

Warning delivered, Charlie loosened his grip to let her take the book, shoving his hands in his pockets to avoid fidgeting.