the thunder before the lightning [harlan]

The night air was upon Gravesend and while there was not a Griffins game tonight, the pitch was alive with laughter and lights and the low hum of music. The annual Griffins Charity Gala was underway and as was tradition it was held on the pitch of the arena, the towers of the stands rising like a fortress around them. The green turf had been transformed into shining hardwood floors, the hoops at either end had been decorated with a million little fairy lights, and a charm had been cast overhead to keep out any rain or wind. There were people milling about the pitch. Some at the cocktail tables toward the north end in close proximity to one of the open bars. Many were gathered on or around the dance floor just in front of the stage near center of the pitch. And there were even more still at the south end of the pitch, perusing the various items that were up for silent auction. The night sky glittered with stars winking in and out, just as the party glittered seemingly from every direction.

Tara had arrived with her younger sister Blair as they had gotten dressed for the event in Tara's apartment, but the brunette found herself soon on her own as her sister abandoned her for a few coworkers hanging around center pitch. "Bye to you too," she called after her sister with sarcasm and then turned on her heel to head for the bar. If she had to be here, at least she was going to drink. In a black, body-hugging dress, Tara made her way to the bar, saying quick hellos to a few of the Griffins employees she saw and even a few investors she couldn't escape from. That was probably the worst part. Because of who she was, investors and business partners and sponsors were always looking to schmooze with her. If she had it her way, she would have snuck off with some of the Griffins trainers and started that poker game they had always joked they'd rather be playing than pretending to fit in with the rest of these suits. Nonetheless, Tara's mother, Beatrice Kingsley, was not a force to be reckoned with especially when it came to this gala.

Speak of the devil. She felt a hand on her arm and she turned to see her mother in a group of well-dressed wizards and witches. Beatrice was a vision in red, the family color, and Tara knew all too soon that her mother was in her element. "And have you met my daughter, Tara?" Beatrice said in way of introduction. Tara turned her head away from her mother to focus on whomever she was inevitably being forced into conversation with. And then stopped short. Bloody f*cking hell.

She had known he would be here and she had not been actively avoiding a moment like this. There were nearly 500 people in attendance. What were the chances of this? But she certainly wasn't expecting her mother of all people to drag her into an introduction to Harlan Bellamy, the Griffins captain, whom she had met only a week ago at the races. Damn it all! Realizing that she was staring with wide eyes and a look of shock, Tara carefully arranged her features into something less embarrassing. She tried for cool composure with a hint of challenge, but she wasn't sure if she was successful in that and instead she might have achieved more of an unsettled grimace.

Nevertheless she held her hand out to the Captain and pasted on the smile her mother expected. "Nice to meet you," she said coolly. Tara watched him with narrowed eyes, a warning there in her glittering green depths, emphasizing the pretense that this was her first time meeting him. If he dared to mention anything about racing, she would punch him in the nuts. Multiple times.

Her mother was chattering on in that smooth, elegant way she had about the efforts her committee had gone to to put on this event. Tara really wasn't listening to a word she was saying. Her eyes were on Bellamy's and she was irritated over the fact that he was in her presence at all. This was precisely why she didn't like to come to these parties. Even if her dress was bitchin and probably the best part of this whole evening.

"Tara, honey, why you don't tell Harlan how you've helped with the summer quidditch clinics?" Her mother suggested with a pointed look at her daughter. Tara merely gazed back impassively, looking as if she would rather chop off her own hand than talk to Harlan any more than she had to. She knew her mother was trying to goad the players into attending the summer clinics where they taught Gravesend children how to fly, but Tara didn't really want to play along. Especially not with Bellamy.

Fearing the silence that Tara caused with her pause, her mother looked away from her daughter and tilted her nose up, getting that glittering determination in her eyes that Tara was all too familiar with. Beatrice was going to get her way with or without her daughter's help. "Tara is a great flyer, Harlan," her mother boasted and Tara felt a smug smile spread across her face. Oh, he already knows that. "Not as good as you, of course," she heard her mother say with a tinkling laugh, as Beatrice fed into his ego, and destroyed what smugness Tara was feeling. The smirk slid off her face and she glanced away from the pair of them - her mother and the captain - in a hopes of finding some way to escape. Or better yet, distract her mother with something else. She didn't need Bellamy sharing anything about her extracurriculars to her mother.

Harlan Bellamy adjusted the collar of his button up with seasoned precision, his grey eyes flicking up to the large mirror in the Gravesend locker Captain's Quarters. There were plenty of times he had looked in the this very mirror over the course of his six months with the team, but there wasn't a single instance that he could remember looking like this. No dirt, no blood and no bruises could be seen underneath his all black ensemble. His hair was combed and slicked back out of his face. He was wearing clothes that were far from sporting garb. At least no one will recognize you. He reminded himself darkly in the safety of his own thoughts before braving the crowd outside.

The annual Griffins Charity Gala.

The words charity and gala were not particularly exciting for the Englishman on their own, but strung together as they were and he was practically running for the hills. In his experience, things like this only got him in trouble. A few strong drinks later, having waited until the night had really started, the beater and few of his teammates made their way on to the once familiar pitch that was currently decorated to impress, not unlike how he was feeling. Harlan realized, then, that the Kingsley family were at least good at two things: putting together an ace team and throwing a party. Despite the natural stuffiness that came with such an event, it looked like people were really enjoying themselves.

As soon as they stepped a foot on the once-grass-hardwood floors, they were swept away from each other and into conversations with wizards and witches of varied levels of importance. Investors, employees, family members, plus ones. Harlan found himself more interested in the happenings around him than the actual conversation he was half-heartedly participating in. Sure this was his first big event with the team, but  schmoozing had never been his strong suit in the professional world. It was likely becoming clear to his new team and their owners that his reputation was not so far from the truth.

"Beatrice," Harlan was kissing either side of the Kingsley matriarch's cheek before he could even comprehend what had happened and how he ended up in the middle of the pitch near the bar. It was like waking up from a nightmare only to realize you were still stuck in one. "You look stunning," The Beater put on his best attempt at a smile while being introduced to circle of posh looking wizards and witches that were in the woman's company. One in particular, a red headed woman jotting down notes presumably for the papers, caught his attention in the midst of the whirlwind introductions. Penny? Pia? Harlan had no time to recall the name because before he knew it was looking directly in the face of the very last person he expected to see here.

Ace. The only name he was able to get out of her at the underground broom racing rang out in his head loud and clear, the last image of her apparating away flashed through his memory. Harlan, despite the obvious shock, kept his composure, his gaze impulsively falling down her body before snapping back up to meet her eyes, the hint of mischief unmistakable.

"Pleasure's all mine," The team captain smiled a devilishly sweet smile, not daring to break their almost magnetic eye contact. She may have had the last laugh last time, but Harlan would not leave this pseudo-battle without the satisfaction of getting his pride back. Beatrice went on about some summer camp, but he had checked out of the conversation the moment he heard the word daughter. It was clear by the pained expression on Tara's face that her extracurriculars were not to be spoken of in the open. Harlan, though, was never much for rules.

"Oh is she now," His demeanor had completely changed from moments before. For the first time in the entire evening, he was actually invested in a conversation. Harlan tossed his head back in a hearty laugh at her mother's next statement, clapping a hand to his chest. That would nearly kill Tara. "It's strange, then, that we've never met on the pitch," He turned back to her with a smirk. "Can I get you a drink?" He offered upon noticing the brunette's lack of beverage, which he was willing to bet she was dying for right about then. "I've heard they make a great tequila sunrise," Harlan nodded to the bar behind them, his eyes never leaving her own for fear of missing any twitch of a reaction. The power he had was almost as intoxicating as his whiskey. The night was certainly looking up.

She saw his eyes rake up and down her body and she glared at him for it, quirking a brow as if saying 'Really? in an unsaid question. Tara refused to acknowledge the shiver that flashed down her spine was anything other than a reaction to the cool night air. She also refused to notice that heart-stopping smile or that gleam in his eyes, but she also couldn't quite look away. She would do well to remind herself that he was a f*cking quidditch player and on her family's team no less, but she was too preoccupied with his presence, with the worry that this man would reveal some of the secrets she had kept from her family for good reason.

Tara narrowed her eyes as he threw back his head in laughter, her gaze catching on the strong column of his neck, on his large hand as he brought it to his chest. She gritted her teeth and had to force her eyes away from her. Back to her mother, back to the other people gathered around with them. She was desperately looking for some escape so she could obliviate this fool before he wrecked everything for her. "Strange indeed," she murmured in agreement and then couldn't help adding. "I could probably still take you though. I've heard your flying form needs some work." Her eyes flashed with the challenge and she ignored the swift look her mother gave her. No, that's not part of the perfect daughter act, is it Mother? She asked silently, her brows quirked innocently as she gazed back at her mother.

Serves her right. If she wanted to play the game of convince the quidditch players to do extra PR then she should have used Blair as her pawn, not her. Wasn't that Blair's job anyway? She almost smiled when he remembered her favorite drink from the race, but turned into more of a smirk.  Beatrice simpered out a delicate laugh and answered for her, just as Tara was about to say she could probably use a tequila sunrise. Or four. "No, no, that's alright, Harlan. Tara likes champagne." The Kingsley matriarch soon had a flute of champage in her hand and was passing it to Tara. The brunette slid her gaze back to Harlan's and her lips curled in amusement. She batted her eyelashes quickly for effect at Harlan as if playing the part of rich little heiress like her mother expected. Tara wanted to laugh at the effort.

"Shall we make a toast?" Beatrice said, her voice ringing clearly as she raised her glass, the diamonds on her fingers glinting elegantly in the night. "To our new captain, our new team, and a new season that will bring the Cup home to Gravesend once again," her mother said as she nodded at Harlan and then gazed around the circle. Tara wanted to roll her eyes at the first comment, but her passion for her team burned through her and she was just as intent on the last part of the toast as her mother. She wanted that Cup in Gravesend again.

But she couldn't help but whisper a "no pressure" to Harlan, just before everyone brought up their glasses and clinked them together. "Cheers," she said, echoes of voices saying the same thing surrounding her as she took a sip from her champagne, wishing it was tequila.

My form?" Harlan nearly choked on the amber liquid from the stout glass in his hand, breaking its contact from his lips if only for a moment, his once dull eyes now fiery and pointed in a concentrated direction. "I don't suppose you would know anywhere I could improve my technique?" He raised an eyebrow, not for a second thinking through his words before they escaped his lips involuntarily. The youngest Bellamy boy was not one to back down -- especially when it came to his career and especially when it was uttered from the pouted mouth he hadn't been able to take his eyes off from the moment it had invaded his evening.

"Pity there isn't a more established organization than the professional quidditch league to be a judge of talent..." The beater clicked his tongue in a slow repetitious melody, his countenance not affected by the strange looks that had started to pile up around him. It was becoming more and more clear to their audience (that just happened to include Tara's mother) that there was something more than an introduction happening before their very eyes. Despite this, though, Harlan hadn't noticed. He had other things to focus on.

Champagne? How posh of the underground racer. Harlan ceremoniously lifted his whiskey to match the delicate flutes of alcohol that surrounded the toast given by the Kingsley matriarch. "To the Griffins," He quickly countered with a curt nod to the circle of witches and wizards around him with their arms raised in anticipation. Certainly they were waiting from a few words of wisdom from the new, highly sought after, captain, but Harlan was not the man for the job. The last thing he wanted to do with his night was toast to himself.  As far as he was concerned, in instances like this, the fewer words the better.

"So, Tara," Emphasis on her birth name which she had been so reluctant to give up only a few weeks previous. "What is it you do, then?" Harlan gave a smile that, to any of his closest friends, would resemble a grimace. “An ace flyer such as yourself, in such an upstanding family of sport is surely involved in some way?” His voice was strong, leaving no question as to his confidence.

She smiled sweetly as he choked on his drink, secretly enjoying his surprised reaction. 1 point for Ace. But that turned around and bit her right in the ass when he threw the question right back at her. Tara narrowed her eyes in the slightest, but tried to wrap nonchalance around herself like a shawl, a barrier against the coolness of the night as it kissed at her bare shoulders. "Don't you have trainers for that?" she quipped back, ignoring the undertone of his comment. She glanced at her mother who was as composed as ever, but Tara saw that pinch in her lips that was a tell-tale sign of annoyance. The racer didn't want to stick around long enough for her mother to find some way to pull her aside and berate her. Especially when all she'd had was champagne so far tonight.

Tara wasn't so ignorant that she wasn't aware that the other people in their circle were throwing her and Bellamy looks of curiosity and confusion. But she was determined not to be fazed by the Captain. To the hell with that. This was her team and he was just an interloper. She refused to back down. But at the same time, she couldn't deny the inkling of fear that crept around the edges of her mind if he decided to let her secret slip. She was torn. "A pity," she replied with a nod. And all of a sudden she wanted to race him, just to knock that arrogant air away from him when he realized he wasn't the winner of all.

She eyed his whiskey enviously during the toast, her eyes drawn to him again and again even when she commanded herself to stop that. "The Griffins," she echoed the others as she toasted then drank. The champagne was sweet and light and bubbly on her tongue and yet all she really wanted to transform it into that tequila sunrise Bellamy had mentioned. Now that was all she could think of. Well that and a few other things.

Her name on his lips almost made her grit her teeth, but she looked back at him and quirked her brows in question. Her eyes flashed as he finagled her racing nickname into his question and she was suddenly wishing she could hex him into a stupor so that she wouldn't have to deal with this anymore. He was just so arrogant. It was bloody annoying. She gazed at him coolly, not intending to answer with truth in the slightest. But as usual, her mother stepped in, took control, answered as if the question had been directed at her. "Tara is an apprentice with our Master Broom Crafter," Beatrice told him as Tara glared at her mother, not bothering to hide her ire. She didn't want to tell the Captain any more than she had to! Plus her mother was always so disapproving of what she did that she didn't want to play the game all of a sudden where she pretended to be proud of her. Her gaze slid back to Bellamy and she looked at him for a moment before turning to her mother, intent on getting her mother away from him. She felt as if they were seconds away from him dropping the bomb that she was into illegal broom racing and she irritated as hell that he had this over her.

She needed to distract her mother. But what. Hmm. And then she knew, a sly smile slid across her face as she turned to Beatrice. "Mother, is everything set for the auction?" she asked, her green eyes sparkling with amusement as she looked at the Captain. She would have bet that this arrogant piece of work didn't pay much attention to the notices about the Gala. Otherwise he probably wouldn't have wanted to show up at all. Beatrice opened her mouth to answer, but Tara spoke first, eager to share the 'good' news with him. "This will be your first auction, right?" she asked Bellamy, full well knowing the answer. "Have you been practicing?"

It was a tradition at the Charity Gala for every player on the team to be 'auctioned off' for their first dance on the floor. It was a nod to the Griffins and Kingsleys history. A formal dance, a classic song that was practically the Kingsley's theme song, and all of it aimed at raising money for the Griffins community. Tara hoped Harlan got paired with Mrs. Shufflebottom, a very wealthy widow who spent a fortune in season tickets every year for the past 50 years. She was old but still spritely, chatty, and tended to have wandering hands. She was also known to be a big fan of the Griffins new captain. Yes, Tara really hoped he got stuck with her for a while.

Harlan watched with heated focus as the Kingsley offspring enjoyed her small victory in the quiet mental war they had waged on each other over the course of their fifteen minute conversation. Don't react, Bellamy. The blond reminded himself through his straight line lips and hardened features. Any sign of a reaction and Tara would run with it - she was enough alike him for Harlan to know that as fact. "Indeed we do," He turned his attention back to her green eyes, his own flashing momentarily before flicking over to her mother. "Perhaps the Kingsley's should re-asses the hiring process?" His voice went up an octave from the gravely tone he typically assumed. "If... that is, you don't think the current training is sufficient?" Harlan shifted back to the brunette with feigned interest, his eyebrows raised.

After the onslaught of cliched toasting, schmoozing and parading had ended the captain could finally breathe again. The judgmental eyes of the guests around him had gone back to the glazed over stupor that seemed to have plagued only the most posh of guests. Harlan couldn't help but feel they were just waiting to be entertained. By who, he wasn't certain, because it damn sure would not be him. Much to his dismay, the shrill voice of the Kingsley matriarch had filled the void where he assumed Tara's would be. "Master Broom Crafter?" Harlan repeated, sounding more interested than he had all evening."You must know your way around crafting the best of brooms. I assume you have quite the collection?" He took an elongated sip from his drink, allowing a moment to peer at her over the lip of his glass.

Despite his best efforts to keep the attention on the underground broom racer, she somehow managed to turn it right back on him. Harlan half-listened to her questions as his gaze explored the hundreds of nameless faces around him. "It is," He responded curtly, his jaw inwardly clenching at the thought of the whole thing. As far as he was concerned, breaking his own arm sounded better than a dance with a random stranger who had paid for it. Harlan answered her last question with a look, as if to silently ask if he looked like he needed the practice. As much as he hated the formality of it all, he couldn't escape the muscle memory from the forced etiquette lessons his mother had enforced, which happened to include dance.

"I'm willing to bet that I'll manage," He added upon seeing the waiting face of Mrs. Kingsley burning a hole in his forehead. "Can the Kingsley family participate?" He suddenly piped up with a wayward glance to Tara, hoping she might assume where he was going with it. "I'd love nothing more than to steal a dance with the one and only, Beatrice," Harlan wooed. If she wanted charm, she would certainly get it.

"I would never question the hiring process," Tara told him, deadpan, hiding the truth behind her even tone. "Our team has always done well with finding talented individuals and putting them in positions to do well." There was a ring of sincerity and pride for her family and she followed his gaze as he looked to her mother. She seemed slightly mollified by Tara's answer so that made it all that much easier for the racer to push the envelope of courteous behavior. She flicked her gaze back at the captain and gave him a once over. "Usually, that is," her tone hinting at a doubt when it came to this specific Griffins employee in front of her.

Tara really did want to slap her mother for telling Bellamy so much more than she herself had wanted to reveal but the only indication was the slight tightening of her fingers on the champagne glass and that fiery look in her green eyes. She simply looked at him unamused as he questioned her. She didn't really feel inclined at all to tell him anymore than he knew already, but she also knew with the audience they currently had that it wasn't really an option to tell him to shove it. "I would say I probably know more about the mechanics of brooms than most people," she said with that sparkle in her eye as she thought about her racing extracurriculars. "Then again, it is my job," she added as if to mean that's what she was referring to all along. Even though she never wanted her mother to find out, it was oddly thrilling to be talking about her secret in such a public forum. Damn if she didn't hate him more for making the whole thing exciting.

His arrogance spoke for itself and that smug look he sent her after she asked if he had been practicing made her want to slap that expression off his face. She regarded him coolly with a raised brow. Her coolness turned hotter and her eyes narrowed as he emphasized the 'bet' in his statement. "I wouldn't recommend you betting on anything," she said before she could think otherwise. "Didn't work out for you so well last time." Her mother's narrowed gaze in her direction had Tara quickly sipping from her glass, realizing too late that it was empty. Dammit. She needed to learn to hold her tongue. Tara glanced around hoping to spy another floating tray of champagne flutes drifting close so she could snag another glass, but what she really wanted was some tequila.

Bellamy's question about the family participating and his glance in her direction had her laughing quietly with condescension in her gaze and a derisive smile. And she didn't hide that from him either. If he thinks he is going to dance with me then he is--

But then he was turning toward her mother who simpered a laugh and put her hand in his, completely falling for his charm. Tara didn't know whether she wanted to seethe with anger that she had fallen for his ruse or laugh at his antics. Eventually she allowed a reluctant grin to pull up the corners of her mouth as her mother suggested he escort her to the stage Tara whispered under her breath, "what a bastard."

She made her way around the edge of the dance floor, weaving in between many of the party goers as they all moved forward to be closer to the stage. Tara was all too familiar with this portion of the evening and was more interested in getting something stronger than champagne rather than watching her mother charm and schmooze the crowd at large as she placed the tip of her wand to her throat to project her voice. As Tara leaned against the edge of the bar, she brought her glass to her lips. Mmm. Tequila. She watched her mother from a distance and soon got bored as the auction started. It was too early to dip out of the party. She knew her mother would be looking for her later for the family photo, but the night seemed to be dragging on more than usual. Was it that she really didn't want to be here or that the asshat of a captain knew her secret now and could spill at any point?

She didn't want to believe that he had that much power over her. But he did. Damn him. Tara did stand up a little straighter as the last and final player was auctioned off for charity. She wasn't surprised that they as a group had already totalled to more than they had been aiming for. This gala always outdid itself plus all the new players meant new meat to play with. And on top of all that, Bellamy had yet to go and Tara knew Mrs. Shufflebottom had deep pockets and a love for that particular Griffins player. Tara watched with gleeful satisfaction as Mrs. Shufflebottom did up end winning the auction for Bellamy and laughed under her breath as she saw the captain escort the older woman to the dance floor, her hands suspiciously gravitating towards his arse. Have fun with that one, Bellamy, she thought with a smirk and started to bring her glass to her lips again, but a firm, familiar hand pulled the glass away and put it on the counter.

"Mother requested your presence on the dance floor," she heard her older brother Niles voice and Tara frowned heavily and cursed under her breath. She grumbled as she straightened and followed her brother, knowing that her mother wouldn't rest until all of her children were represented for the beginning of the first dance. Tara knew it wasn't even worth the fight at this point. "You better not f*cking step on my toes," she warned her brother with a look as she placed her hand on his shoulder, seeing her mother and father on the dance floor as well as Bellamy with Mrs. Shufflebottom. Tara couldn't help but smile again at the thought and she hoped the Captain got stuck with her for the rest of the night.

Feeling more confident in his attempts to rile Tara up than ever, Harlan smiled sweetly at her mother, visibly pleased to see that she had played right into his ploy. If the muffled curse words that came from somewhere to his left were any indication, the Beater had absolutely succeeded in his mission in the silently waged war between strangers and he reveled in the small victory. Although he couldn't blame the woman, he was still mildly disappointed to see that she had made herself sparse before things really heated up. To be fair, they both had equal stake in the game and playing with the fire that was the Kingsley family so early in the season was probably not his wisest move.

The next half an hour was a blur. Harlan was sure to keep the drinks in his hand full as the auction of the Griffins players' dragged on - he was going to need all the liquid courage he could get when his turn rolled around. Given that he was the newest captain of the team, the coordinators presumably saved him for last. Harlan was so entertained watching Rob get pulled off the stage by a scantily clad, middle-aged, wife of one of the highest ranking Ministry Officials, that he nearly missed his own name being called. He averted his attention, trying to keep distracted by anything else as the number of galleons rose.

Ms. Shufflebottom. Harlan's grey eyes hardened on the figure of the older woman who was dripping in jewelry and eyeing him as if he was a piece of meet from the crowd. This was going to be an experience, he thought to himself. Despite knowing better than to waste good whiskey all at once, Harlan shot the remainder of the amber liquid from his glass in one gulp before making his way to the crowd for his dance.

Although he could have done without the groping, Harlan was very aware of the fact that the woman he was swinging around the middle of the dance floor had just personally funded a whole new set of equipment for the team. How much could one dance hurt? Small talk, too, was easy, as Ms Shufflebottom didn't appear to be interested in talking at all. As the song came to an end and the tune transitioned, the players' thanked their partners and went on their way. Shufflebottom, though, showed no signs of slowing and he had no choice but to oblige.

As they continued their waltz around the floor, the captain noticed the Kingsley family to the right just in time to catch Tara shooting him a smug glance. Harlan led his partner to the family, taking note of how she eyed the Kingsley son up and down. This could certainly work to his advantage. "Quite the evening, Mr. Kingsley" He spoke to the patriarch of the family, a subtle hint at how much money he had just brought the franchise because of the woman he was dancing with.

As the song transitioned to a slower dance, many couples dissipated from the floor to go back to socializing and drinking. "You wouldn't mind if I cut in?" Harlan asked Tara's brother, although in no way was his question warranting a response. Before he could even finish the last word, in one swift move he had ushered Ms. Shufflebottom to Niles and taken Tara's hand in his own. "I believe it's custom for the Kingsley family to dance with the players?" He smiled sweetly to her mother, who had taken notice and was looking very pleased with herself.

She heard a deep voice over her shoulder and she immediately squeezed her brother's hand harder so he wouldn't let go and give in to politeness. She gave her brother a hard look, but Niles only looked at her quizzically before Bellamy slid his hand into hers. Tara pulled back so she wasn't so close to him, yet she couldn't escape his arms because just then a photographer from the Daily Prophet had approached the group of them, her parents and brother included, and asked for a photo. Beatrice Kingsley shooed the lot of them together with the grace and command she always had. If nothing else, Tara had mastered the art of smiling for a publicity photo.

"What did you do? Bathe in your cologne before you got here. You reek," Tara muttered under her breath to Bellamy as the photo was taken. As soon as the photographer thanked them and moved away, Tara began to move away as well, but her mother, the hellish interfering hen that she was, gave her a hard look and threw a glance at Bellamy. "Tara, dear. Harlan has it right. It is tradition," her mother said and Tara found herself seething on the inside, her eyes green fire with being stuck with the captain. Again. She felt like there was an giant anvil hanging over her head, about to drop at any moment, and she hated that she couldn't escape it on her own terms.

Tara found herself on the dance floor with the captain as the next song started and with her one hand in his and the other on his shoulder, she found herself closer to him than she had ever been before. When she found herself noticing the exact color of his blue-grey eyes, she forced herself to look away over his shoulder. "And here I thought you'd be stuck with Mrs. Shufflebottom all night. What a pity," she said sarcastically, noticing now that Niles was stuck with her across the dance floor.

She couldn't help but wonder and worry about the little secret of hers that he now knew about. And she didn't like it one bit. As impatient as always, she lowered her voice so other couples around them wouldn't be able to hear her. "What exactly is your game?" she asked bluntly. "Just because you think you've won my mother over doesn't mean she'd believe you if you told her," Tara said, knowing full well her mother probably would believe him. But he didn't need to know that. "Besides, it'd probably be detrimental to your career should anyone find out that you know Ace too, right?"

With one one fell swoop Shufflebottom was out of his hair and Tara was into his hand, just as he had planned. Seeing her squirm over him, the man who held her little secret, being in such close proximity to her family, was surely to be highlight of his evening --- especially given how close he would be able to see it. Just as Harlan was dwelling on the fact, a photographer organized the group of them to take a photo. Perfect. This would be a tabloid field day with the press. Harlan even in the same photo next to the heiress to the Kingsley Quidditch name would cause gossip, but right next her would be madness.

You reek. Harlan gave a nonchalant chuckle out of the side of his mouth, shaking his head through the dim smile he held on his face with a practiced precision. He didn't plan on dignifying Tara's dig with a response, instead let her believe that her petty comments had no effect on him. He was the one with the power here, not her. And she wouldn't soon forget it.

"Tradition," The Beater agreed with Mrs. Kingsley, straight faced and even toned. It wasn't until he glanced back down at the brunette that he allowed himself a half smile, his eyes flashing deviously, if only for a moment. As the two of them made their way to the center of the floor, Harlan took her hand in his own while the other settled on the middle of her back. As he took a step closed to her, the thirty year old studied her face. "Hmm," The captain thought through Tara's statements stoically, his gaze shifting to the Shufflebottom woman and Tara's brother. "She's quite keen on your brother... you know?" He raised his eyebrows.

"My game?" Harlan nearly narrowed his brows. "My game is Quidditch, I'm unsure why you might think otherwise," He mocked through a dead pan face. It wasn't until he leaned forward, his mouth next to her ear, that he allowed himself to speak freely. "If I'm honest..." He continued. "It's fun to see you squirm," Harlan released his hand from the back of her neck before stepping back into their dance. "I think my career has seen worse transgressions that a little betting scandal," He confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. Sure, it wouldn't look good, but it certainly wouldn't end him.

From the corner of her eye, Tara saw that smirk and flash in his eyes and she could see herself punching him in the kidney. She really could and he was lucky that her parents were right here because she definitely was annoyed enough by him that she wanted to take it out on him. It would make her feel a little better at least. Nevertheless, she reluctantly took the dance floor with him. His hand on her back was rough but warm and she refused to acknowledge that the goosebumps that appeared on her arms were caused by anything other than the cool night air. With his hand touching the skin at her lower back, she was almost regretting her choice in her body-hugging dress with cut outs. Her eyes were settled on her brother but she flicked her gaze to Bellamy as he gave voice to the question she had just thought.

"Yeah, seems like it," she told him shortly, watching Niles for a few more moments, half amused and half sorry for her brother. She wondered how long it would be until someone rescued him from her grasp. But then again she was thinking the same thing about herself. Tara didn't need resucing, she just wanted this song to be over so she could get away from him. And then she realized what she was saying and she was disgruntled with the fact that he was making her run. She didn't f*cking run from anything. She dug in her heels and stuck out her chin in that stubborn look she had. Tara turned her head as she commanded herself to stop avoiding his gaze and she met her green eyes to his blue.

She narrowed her gaze at him as he played coy. She was unamused and she felt her temper boiling and her cheeks getting hot. But then he was leaning closer and she got another whiff of his cologne and she tensed at his breath at her ear. And then nearly saw red at his words. She curled her fingers of her right hand around and dug her nails into the back of his hand without remorse. "I'm not f*cking squirming," she whispered stubbornly, wishing she could do something worse than biting her nails into his hand.

His nonchalance, his careless shrug, and that look in his eye made her crazy. "I don't care about your f*cking past. I don't want you saying anything about it," Tara told him, her voice firm as she gave up all semblance of dancing. "Tara! What are you shouting about?" a familiar voice asked from just beside her and that's when she realized that she had nearly shouted her last words at Bellamy. And her mother had heard. Tara felt her heart thumping loudly in her ears and the color drained from her face, but she tried to plaster as neutral of an expression as she could muster. But her mother was as persistent as ever. "What are you two arguing about?" her mother asked, looking at Tara and then turning so her gaze fell upon Harlan.