easy target - tara

Although it was only February, Harlan Bellamy had already dubbed the year as entirely unsuccessful. As if it wasn't bad enough that the Griffins, who at the start of the season were posed to be champions, found themselves fourth in the league. Just after the Magpies, no less. In the captain's mind, it was hardly the time for the team to be partaking in some ridiculous ploy to surge the fan support, but he hadn't much a choice as far as his contract was concerned.

Summer in February. Bullshit tropical drinks served in coconuts, a supposedly ''appropriately" decorated rooftop equipped with a pool enchanted by quietly lapping waves and outdoor heaters strong enough to have the average wizard really believing they were far from the bitterly cold London winter.

It was all hands on deck in the Quidditch press realm for the Griffins, the management had insisted all players attend and assure their loyal fans that they were on their way to being better than ever. Their loyal fans who were willing to pay the price for VIP access, that is. The event had started early, around noon, and now a few hours in, people were really starting to have a good time. Harlan, though, was decidedly miserable. Faking it was never his forte, and this was certainly no exception.

The captain situated himself at all moments throughout the day so that he was just close enough to the bar to make a quick escape from any conversation that became too tasking. It wasn't until he had consumed enough beer, that the familiar buzz of alcohol resonated in his chest and his shoulders began to relax. He even found himself enjoying a conversation with a patron. It didn't hurt, of course, that said patron happened to be a six foot tall brunette who had practically walked off the pages of a magazine. Maybe the event wouldn't be so bad, after all. 

"Tara, haven't you had enough?" an annoyingly familiar voice whispered in her ear. Tara turned, knowing who the peony scented perfumed belonged to without looking, to see her beautifully put together sister Blair in a crisp and smart looking pair of dress robes. Tara, meanwhile, was in black pants, a loose fitting gray slouchy top, and a dark leather jacket, complete with a beer in hand. She had lost track of what number this beer was a while ago, but apparently her younger sister hadn't. Blair looked in command yet angelic and as Marketing Coordinator for the team, this event was probably all of her doing. Why Tara had been asked to be there was beyond her. Family oriented team and all that? Honestly Tara didn't see the point.

"Nope, not nearly enough," Tara answered with a pretty smile just before she took a long draw of her beer. Her sister narrowed her eyes and grabbed her elbow, steering her toward an unoccupied corner of the place. "Look," Blair said, her voice huffy and her eyes on the patrons mulling around over Tara's shoulder. "I just need you to stick around for the speeches later. You know how mum likes all of us to be on stage. So please, do me a favor, and behave for a few more hours." And as if her sister's little scolding wasn't bad enough, Blair had the gall to pluck her beer out of her hands. "And no more beer." Blair ordered a glass of water from the bartender and then gave Tara a knowing look. "We both know how you get when you have too much. With how the team is playing right now, we don't need any other issues."

With that, her sister flounced away. Thank Merlin. Because Tara was about to hex her into oblivion. Or at least curse her with the worst case of cysts she could imagine. As it was, Blair completely missed that look in Tara's eyes - the one that spelled trouble. There was this lick of rebellion in her, this feeling of being caged in and she just couldn't help but rattle the bars. The fact that she had had a few beers was only fuel to her fire. Tara sidled up to the bar, pushed her dark hair over her shoulder, and ordered another beer, giving the bartender a look as if she dared him to question her decision.

As she took another few swallows of her beer, she eyed the big, burly guy next to her. He was middle-aged, had a bit of beer belly and a balding spot but bulky arms and legs that spoke to some kind of muscle and looked like one of the men who thought they knew everything about quidditch. Tara leaned over a little to pick up what he was saying to his buddy. "--course they're giving us free alcohol. They want us to secure our tickets for next season already. Before we even know if this team is worth the galleons. Not sure, if you ask me. Fourth in the league?"

The fight in Tara was quick and sure in defense of her team, but in that moment, she spied the captain, Mr Bellamy himself, not too far away and then another idea came into her head. Tara brushed her hair over half her face and cleared her throat to get the guy's attention. "That's a bold thing to say, especially at this party," she started but then gave him a coy smile. "But I don't disagree with you. I personally don't understand what the team is doing. 'Specially the captain? His game has been off all season. Not sure if he's quite the right fit." She raised her voice just enough that she hoped Harlan heard her.

"Mmmm,"

The captain was able to muster only a brief and guttural noise from the back of his throat that indicated he was participating in the conversation with his new companion. Aforementioned companion stood out from the crowd, not only because she happened to be wearing the least amount of fabric possible (even Harlan could hardly call it real clothing), but also because she stood almost a full head taller than almost every other person in the room, men included. There was no denying she was stunning. Stunning and a certified bore. What could only just be classified as a conversation did little to keep the man's attention past the five minute mark. There was only so much talk of runways, the new innovative Spring line, and whatever famous witch or wizard she had bumped elbows with, that Harlan could stomach. A beautiful exterior ruined by the interior, he noted as the last of his dark beer slid down the back of his throat, going straight to his head.

The captain. Almost as though he was hyper sensitive to the phrase, the words that marked his namesake cut through the ever-growing hum of conversation around the bar as the alcohol poured. Harlan's dark grey eyes scanned the groups around him for the source. Tara Kinglsey. There was no reason the man should have been surprised, but there he was, staring, holding back any hint of a reaction as he watched her. Almost as if daring him, she raised the decibel of her voice and looked him right right in the eye before re-engaging in whatever faux-exchange she had wedged herself into.

'Harlan?' Whatever foreign accent the brunette whose hand had found it's way to Harlan's chest had only just reached his consciousness. Italian, maybe? He couldn't be sure. His gaze snapped back to the person in front of him, although his mind was feet away. "Sorry," Harlan apologised, albeit unenthusiastically, his hand reaching the one on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. He wasn't about to let Tara see him sweat, even if she had caught him off guard. "Would you like to get out of here?" Harlan turned to the girl, careful to maintain eye contact and avoid the conversation that had transpired just on the other side of the bar. His free hand wandered deliberately to brush her neck as he stood up to leave.

'Oi! Hands off, pretty boy! Harlan was confronted by the surprisingly aggressive voice from the exact direction that he had been avoiding. "Paws off my daughter, Bellamy!" The middle-aged man that Tara had befriended, who was now pummelling his overweight body at Harlan, shouted as his full beer fell to the ground. In a flash, he had wedged himself between the qudditch player the woman, grubby hands reaching for the neck of his target.  "Maybe if those hands were strong enough to hold a bludger, the Griffins might actually win a match for once," He spat, warm saliva spewing from his mouth and to Harlan's face that was now dangerously close to his own.

"Fuck's sake," Harlan shoved the man away from him, acutely aware of the eyes from around the room that had tuned into the scene that had unfolded. He didn't want to have to get physical but there was really no other option. At least, as far as he could see. 'S'posed to be threatening? No wonder we can't win a match, with a sissy captain like this!' The belligerent man looked to Tara, only briefly, for reassurance as he continued on his tirade. Harlan, raw from the loss, drunk, and angry, took a slow step forward, "Don't make me do something I would regret, mate,"  He reiterated the strangers term, placing two hands on his shoulders. "I think it's time for you to head home," The wizard eyed the door, catching Tara's gaze for a fleeting second.

There! There it was. She had noticed his steely blue eyes on her and her new friend and she decidedly didn't make eye contact with him past that first time. Tara pushed her dark hair over her shoulder as she smiled prettily at the balding season ticket holder, only watching from her periphery. The balding man was talking about the team's stats, spitting partially inaccurate stats at her as if that would impress her. As if Tara wasn't up to date with exactly how her team was doing. She blinked and nodded as if she didn't know that he had gotten the captain's stats wrong and misquoted his stat's from last season.

Honestly, part of her didn't know why she was bothering with such a dolt of a man. He clearly was more of a talker, just out to hear his own voice. Yet the more dominant part of Tara couldn't help but egg him on. "Yeah, I totally agree. Bellamy hasn't been living up to his contract. Thought he would have had more of an impact this season," she said to the balding season ticket member. But with a twinge of disappointment and irritation, Tara realized Harlan was making his move on the leggy brunette that was nearly drooling over him.

But then things took an unexpected turn. The balding season ticker holder was one moment next to her and then faster than she would have guessed, he was moving like a canon toward Harlan with rage in his eyes. Tara glanced between the man and Harlan's leggy brunette before it dawned on her. "Bloody hell," she muttered under her breath as she followed the man. Her wand was in her hand though her vision was blurry at the edges. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," she called, quietly and calmly, realizing that the shouting and physicality of the situation was starting to garner attention. She knew any second that Blair was going to turn up and probably blame all of this on Tara, but the witch wasn't above trying to solve the issue herself. Even if she's the one that instigated it. The season ticket holder's  insults had done their job. Harlan seemed irritated, but she really wasn't out to cause a big scene. At least, she didn't think she was.

"Let's all take a second, think this through," she said, her attention more focused on the season ticket holder, placing a hand on the man's arm. "My friend Pat--" she nodded to the guy behind the bar. "--can give you any drink you're wanting. If you'd just come with me?" Tara asked, catching Harlan's eye for the briefest of seconds. She really just needed to get these two away from each other. Tara could see a whirlwind of dark hair from the corner of her eyes and she knew Blair was coming, but nothing could stop what happened next.

The season ticker holder glanced between Tara and Harlan and said, slurred it really, "I don't need to think it through." He shrugged off Tara's hand and then brought his fist back and aimed for Harlan's jaw.

As Harlan worked to sedate the older man who was doing his very best to physically and verbally intimidate him, the root of the problem had wiggled her way back into the situation. The wizard cast a wayward glance in Tara's direction only to roll his eyes at her attempt to appease the situation she had so clearly instigated in the first place. Where she got off thinking she could get a hold of the events that had unfolded, Harlan couldn't quite understand. It was clear that the balding man who continued to invade his personal space with his hot, beer scented, and slobbery breath could agree on at least that, his disapproving grunt in Tara's direction an obvious indication.

Harlan, though, had no time to react as a fist hit him square in the jaw with surprising strength. He would have hated to have seen the man sober. Instinctually, and without any regard for the public relations team that had surrounded them almost instantaneously, the quidditch player reacted, pinning his opponent against the bar. "Easy, man," He dug his elbow into the mans chest in an effort to keep him from writhing under his grasp.

Things has escalated quickly, and quite frankly, the captain had forgotten why he was even so worked up in the first place. Before he knew it, he was being pulled away by security under the secrecy of the Griffins team, who were suspiciously prepared for the event of their star player causing a scene, immediately putting a spell over him to hide him from the public. No doubt they would be toying with the memories of a few of their patrons after they had a chance to deal with him.

"You really should have a chat with your sister about this," Harlan spat venomously at the older Kingsley woman who was the head of the marketing department. "I tried to be civil," He argued with a shrug as two of the biggest guards they could find pinned him against the bar of a private dining area away from any preying outside eyes. "He asked for it," Harlan continued, roughly wiping the back of his hand against his mouth, studying the thick coat of blood it left behind. As if on cue, the very cause of his troubles stormed through the door. "Now the party has arrived!" He clapped his hands together, grinning broadly in Tara's direction. "Pleased with yourself?" Harlan queried.

It happened faster than Tara could react or charm the balding man into submission. She just watched with her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide with surprise. She couldn't believe the man actually had enough coordination to really connect his fist to Harlan's face. Couldn't believe Harlan hadn't found some way to stop him and then couldn't believe how the sight of the quidditch captain pinning the man to the bar had made her pause. She knew she hadn't forgotten how physical Harlan could be, but in that moment at least, she was appreciating it.

But then, just as she expected, there was a flurry of action and movement. Blair's head of shining dark hair and glaring looks sent in Tara's direction before the gleaming tip of her wand distracted her. Security seemed to flood the area around them. The balding man was handled by tow big burly security guards and Tara saw one of the other front office staff members escorting him away. She wondered if they would actually revoke his season ticket privileges or if he spent too much money to risk offending him that much. Tara knew that money tended to speak in big ways around her family's team and judging by the fake rack the balding man's daughter was sporting, he probably had more galleons in his vault than was good for him. Yeah, Tara suspected the season ticket holder wouldn't completely be written off.

She could hear her sister's familiar voice whipping out commands and Tara was more than content to sit at the bar with Pat and sip at her beer, her entertainment for the night complete. Blair had another idea though. "Bring her too," she heard her sister say and Tara glanced sharply to her left as a security wizard came over to stand at her shoulder. She opened her mouth to retort and refuse, but her sister was already stomping away after the captain. Tara glanced over her shoulder a the security wizard who seemed patient but resolute. "Please, Miss Kingsley," he said as he extended an arm in an 'after you' gesture. Tara huffed, but with a roll of her eyes, she set down the rest of her beer, and followed the flurry of drama that was Harlan Bellamy. "It wasn't my fault," she muttered to the security guard.

Tara pushed open the door to the private room Blair had escorted everyone into, her dark hair flying about her shoulders, and she was greeting to the sight of Harlan clapping at her entrance. He was smiling through the blood on his mouth and the sight of him like that sent a shock through her system. She hadn't thought the balding man had gotten that good of a hit in. But it wasn't like she was going to show her concern, especially when he was being an ass. "Don't try to pin this on me," she threw back at him, crossing her arms in front of her. "Maybe you shouldn't have been trying to add his daughter to your harem of quidditch bunnies. Ever thought of that?"

The Gravesend captain, who was now absentmindedly wiping his own blood onto the muted grey fabric of his t-shirt, was quick to roll his eyes at his the latest entrance of the older Kingsley woman. As she retorted, a team of strangers (no doubt of various levels of importance on the Griffins marketing team) swarmed the blond man who had propped himself up against the bar of the private room. "I'm fine," Harlan nearly growled, shrugging off their attempts to heal his wound. They couldn't have their poster boy, who had racked up the notoriety of being less than civilised on and off the pitch, being involved in even the smallest scuffle.

"For fuck's sake," He aimed the heat of his aggression toward Tara, who was now standing across from him with her arms folded across her chest defensively. "You were putting him on and you know it," Harlan shook his head knowingly. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he had been acutely aware of the conversation between the brunette and his new opponent. In fact, from the moment Tara had entered the party, despite his best efforts to avoid it, he found himself keeping tabs on her.

"Really should have listened to baby sis and cut yourself off, love," Harlan reached a hand over the bar and grabbed a free beer, roughly knocking the cap off on the side of the wooden bar before taking a long swig, the carbonation mixed with blood lazily creeping down the back of his throat. "And no, I didn't think of that," He continued. "Thank you for the advice in the dating department. Seems like you really had met your match out there, I'm sorry I had to go and ruin that for you," Harlan smiled behind the lip of his drink, taking another mouthful in order to wash the taste of iron from his mouth.

"Can't you all just go about your business making sure no one saw anything out there?" He addressed the pr team, who were now staring at each other like deer caught in the headlights. It had been clear to him for quite some time that despite the fact that they had to control the man, they were completely terrified of the person he had been painted out to be, no matter how exagrated it was. "Trust me, I have no interest in rejoining the party..." Harlan grumbled, nodding in the direction of the double doors leading out to the rooftop, waiting for the inevitable protests from Blair, who had proven herself to be quite the thorn in his side. She was one of the few that actually stood up to him when push came to shove.

Tara watched as the swarm of front office staff swarmed the team captain. Her view of Harlan was blocked but she could still feel his anger rolling off him as if it were a living, breathing thing. She wondered if this was what it was like to be near him on the pitch. The rawness that he exuded. She tried not to notice the muscles that moved under his shirt as he moved. But then his words were like daggers thrown at her and her green eyes blazed with the challenge in his tone. "I was not," she told him defensively, letting the little white lie slip from between her lips without a blink of an eye. "And besides don't you have media training so that you can deal with hecklers. C'mon now, don't tell me you can't handle a little criticism." She shook her head as if in disbelief, throwing the fault right back on him.

"Are you going to try to manhandle every fan who tells you you're not living up to your contract? Because let's be serious. It's true," she threw right back at him. The security guard who had been looking at Harlan's lip nervously glanced between the two and Tara saw the security guards doing the same, as if they were all unsure of what to do with the two live grenades that were Harlan and Tara. She didn't mind in the least bit, she wans't going to whisper insults, she didn't care who knew. His barb about listening to Blair, her 'baby sis', cut her to the quick, her irritation raising to levels of seeing red. Her cheeks were pink with agitation, her green eyes gleaming wildly. "You're such an asshole, Bellamy," she threw back at him for insinuating she would listen to her sister or get with that disgusting season ticker member. "You don't even kno---"

"Tara!" Blair interrupted her, stepping in front of her. "Stop it!" she hissed. The Kingsley sisters had a silent battle of wills and Tara grinned after a moment and shook her head. "I'm out of here," she told her sister, flipping off Harlan as she walked toward the door, but her sister's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Don't you dare, Tara. We're still cleaning up this little incident," Blair said, nodding toward the security guard who sidestepped to block Tara's path. Tara spun on her heel, regretting the action a second later as the movement made her head spin. Yep, probably had a little too much beer but not like she was admitting that to anyone. Tara glared daggers at anyone who dared to look in her direction as she watched Harlan try to dismiss everyone like the little queen he thought he was. Blair was already in deep discussion with the head of security near the door and hearing his request, glanced up at him and then around the room. With a second's hesitation in which Tara could see the wheels in her mind turning, Blair began barking out instructions. Two security to go deal with the balding man, another person to go fetch his account manager to deal with the fall out. Two security to handle the memory charms. One more to deal with any media that might have heard something go down and spread the word that Harlan had fallen ill surprisingly quick. Someone else to deal with the brunette daughter and escort her to her father. And finally, it was just the three of them. Blair, Tara, and Harlan.

Blair was glancing between the two of them, her eyes hard. "Both of you need to stay here and behave until this is handled. I don't need another incident to fix thanks to the two of you. I'm getting a mediwitch sent in to look at that. You both just better hope the GM doesn't hear about this today," she told them before she went closer to the door, calling in the security guard who had blocked Tara's escape. For the moment, it was almost quiet. Tara could hear the music from the party dimmed through the walls, evidence that everything out there was continuing as normal without their captain. Tara eyed him, realizing just how busted his lip was and that realization at least made her want to smile for some reason. She tried not to let her sister's threat of their father finding out faze her.

After a second of watching her sister, Tara sidled closer to the bar, leaning against it a foot or two away from Harlan and asked for her own beer. Grabbing the bottle, she lifted it toward the captain in an ironic gesture before taking a big swallow. "Can you just imagine the headlines tomorrow?" Tara threw out there casually, purposefully needling him again. The thought of him with that brunette still irritated her and she wanted to get that same reaction from him. "'Gravesend Captain Taken Out by Season Ticket Holder,'" she proposed with a grin. Then lightly shrugged one shoulder. "Who knew one middle-aged man could cause that much damage. You need to learn to get your hands up," she added with a soft laugh and a look at his bleeding lip.

As the younger Kingsley woman continued her tirade, Harlan watched with a focus he dedicated to very few things in his life as the carbonation of his beer floated to the rim. If he were to pay any mind to any other of his surroundings, he may have burned the place down by now. Being treated like a child was a personal pet peeve derived from some deep seeded events in his youth, and Blair had pushed all the wrong buttons. Apparently it ran in the family. It didn't help, of course, that her lesser poised counterpart was spouting at him insults that were designed to activate his already less than camera ready behaviour.

Steely grey eyes, although fixated only on his immediate surroundings, caught peripherals of Blair leaving the room to sort out some public relations matter or another, he derived. Harlan couldn't be bothered, though. not with the thorn in his side that had presently made herself even closer in proximity to spout her venom.

Harlan felt the grip on his beer tighten as he watched Tara sidle up next to him and raise a drink to the evening. "Are you that bored with your own life you feel the need to meddle in mine so frequently?" The captain nearly slammed his drink down on the counter to shift his body toward her. His heartbeat, which had previously just been rapping against his rib cage, was now thumping against his skill and making it impossible to think clearly.

"You know what you need to learn?" The blond moved lightening quick and was now dangerously close to Tara with his body directly facing her own and blocking any sort of movement. "You need to learn to shut your mouth," He continued, fighting the urge to pin her hands to stifle her movement, as he was sure a slap in the face was soon to come. It was then, when he was forced to look Tara straight in the face, that Harlan made the move that he had never expected. In an instant, his lips smashed against her own in a frenzied mix of hatred and lust, action coursing through his veins and dictating his movements.

"Meddle in yours so frequently?" Tara repeated with an incredulous laugh even as he made a dramatic showing of slamming his beer down and getting in her space. "You do think highly of yourself, don't you?" the dark haired witch quipped back quickly, bringing her bottle up to her lips for a quick sip as she peered over at him and pretended like his height and his menace meant nothing to her. Her world seemed slightly blurry around the edges and she knew her bluster was mostly the alcohol talking, but she couldn't quite explain why she felt something shift between them too. Maybe she really did dislike him more than she thought she did.

And with good reason too, she thought as he turned to face her, crowded her in against the bar, and tried to do the whole intimidation thing. She wasn't buying it, wanted to slap him right across the face and give him another split lip just for daring to tell her to shut her mouth, but he surprised her instead. One second they were arguing and in the next, his lips were on hers, hard and soft, angry but heated in the best of ways all at the same time. It shocked her to the core to have Harlan Bellamy kissing her in the back room of this party and shocked her even more when she felt herself kissing him back. Her lips moved her his and she gripped the back of his neck to pull him in closer to hers, their battle of words turning into a battle of lips.

But then she had a moment of clarity, whether it was brought on by a clink of glasses as the bartender turned away from them as if to give them some privacy or the security guard at the door clearing his throat, Tara wasn't sure. But she pulled back from the Griffins captain, nearly standing on her tiptoes to be close enough to the tall quidditch player. Her green eyes met his misty blue-grey ones and she was overcome with an urge to slap him but also keep kissing him.

So she did both. Her hand cracked across his jaw, but she knew had pulled back at the last second, some of the blood from his cut lip smearing onto her hand. And then she was pushing him back against his chair and pulling him down to her lips, grinning as she did, claiming his lips again on her own terms, the alcohol running through her veins pushing her on.

When she leaned away, she patted his cheek and her green eyes gleamed at him before she picked up her beer and chugged it. "Don't ever tell me what to do again," she told him before she turned for the door, not caring what the hell Blair had to say about her staying in this room. She was leaving before she gave in to the urge to start making out the the captain once again. Even in her slightly tipsy state, she knew that was a bad idea.