echo home [harlan]

july 2001

It was, without a doubt, one of the most spectacular things she had ever created. And she had created some pretty spectacular things. Honey Bea Flume straightened up and took a step back from the table, creating a frame with her thumbs and forefingers to peer through, taking a look to make sure her cake was perfectly straight. It was perfect in more ways than that, too.

It was a seven-tier cake, with each tier a different flavor of cake: red velvet, strawberry and champagne, chocolate, triple chocolate, mocha, vanilla, and chocolate hazelnut. Really, no one should have been surprised that the majority of the layers somehow involved chocolate. Her favorite part, however, was the decorations. Each layer was covered with a white chocolate buttercream frosting, with a white chocolate drizzle mixed with edible gold dust dripping off of every tier. Nestled among the layers were flowers made of spun sugar, fashioned to look just like the flowers that the bride carried down the aisle.

Speaking of the bride, Honey had only met her once; she had been a year or two ahead of her in school, she thought, and all she knew about her was that she used the term ‘socialite’ to describe herself. And all she knew about the groom was his name, as the event had been referred to as ‘the Lancaster Wedding’ more times than she could count. He was a Ministry Official, somewhere high up, and just by the looks of Audrey, Honey had decided that he was probably an older gentleman, not that she would ever judge anyone on their relationship choices. Never.

But, Honey had been trying to make Honeydukes a familiar name in wedding cake circles, and this cake was paying an incredible amount of money, so she wasn’t about to complain about anything. She had even been given an invitation to the reception, which was going to include other food and drink of the same caliber as the cake she had created. The invitation hadn’t included a plus one, but she didn’t let stop her from dressing up. She was representing her shop, after all. Still, it was just a simple, black dress, floor length and strapless, her hair done up in braids pinned every which way on her head for quite the fancy hairdo.

Slowly people started filing in to the hall, finding the tables that corresponded to the numbers on their place cards. Honey put one final touch on the cake, moving a flower just a centimeter to the right, before hurrying off to the side, milling around with the other service people just off to the side of the main bar, only there to make this reception happen. While she had been invited to stay for the reception, she wasn’t given all the perks that the real invitees had been given, like a place to sit. But food and drink? There would be plenty.

The hors d’oeuvres started going around, those waiters moving in a direction opposite to the waiters moving around with trays of champagne. She took one as soon as she was offered, sipping it as she casually chatted with the woman overseeing the catering, watching as those folks with actual invitations milled around, surely talking about fancy things to match their fancy dresses, suits, and dress robes. If the evening was going to be like this the whole time, Honey would have to reconsider wanting to stay. No amount of free food would make up for how boring this was turning out to be. But finally, it was time for the wedding party to enter. Then would be dinner, and hopefully once the dancing started, the stuffy fancy people would loosen up a bit.

Honey was only half listening as someone was announcing the couples of the wedding party, bridesmaid paired up with groomsman. She thought she heard the name ‘Bellamy’ and looked up, but the Bellamy she was familiar with was no where to be found. It had just been the bridesmaid. Honey let the tension out of her shoulders as she took another sip of champagne, though she instantly regretted it when she heard the next name, complemented by a very familiar face accompanying a very tall and very tanned bridesmaid into the room.

She stole glances in Harlan’s direction throughout the dinner, taking care to appear as casual as possible in case he spotted her. She was here for a reason, she hadn’t been seeking him out, and she couldn’t recall one time hearing the name ‘Bellamy’ in all of this wedding planning, even though that seemed completely unlikely once she found out that the bride was none other that Harlan’s younger sister. But she couldn’t help but worry what he would say if he saw her. Never mind what she would say. This was much too nice of a party for her to tell him exactly what she wanted, the anger she had been feeling about their last ‘date’ building up for several weeks. She was here to bring the cake, to represent Honeydukes, and she wasn’t about to let him ruin this for her.

No, she would just stay over by the bar, minding her own business, making sure no one bumped into the table holding the cake. She could leave as soon as it was cut, and hopefully there wouldn’t be too much time for dancing, drinking, and mingling in between the last bite of dinner and the first bite of cake.

Yes, ahem, very disappointing…” Harlan Bellamy agreed with his father’s statement through gritted teeth, pausing momentarily in the middle of his sentence to clear the visible discomfort from his throat. Given that this was the first time he had ventured to have a legitimate conversation with the man, although they were surrounded by the Bellamy family peers, the Griffins’ upset in the late rounds of the Quidditch finals was the very last thing the youngest son wanted to divulge. The very fact that he had decided to follow his dreams in the sport was a point of a contention enough. Add the fact that the captain had a less than a savoury reputation and that the team he led hadn't taken the cup, the patriarch's disappoint was practically dripping from his every pore, and he showed no signs of wiping his perspiration. Harlan, though, doubted that even if they had won that his father would have acted any different.

The wizard took another sizeable gulp of whiskey, eyes over the brim of his glass watching as his eldest sister, Audrey, entered the reception area with her now husband. He wondered if his father noticed the irony of pointing out Harlan's missteps while his daughter was in the middle of arguably the most important night of her life, in her eyes. Her younger brother, though, couldn't have been any more indifferent. The whole idea of marriage seemed archaic to him now but he assumed that his family just had that effect on him. This wedding had been years in the making, every small detail of the event planned out meticulously to ensure that everything was perfect.

And perfect it was. The room was oozing with elegance, sparkle illuminating every corner of the room and seeping right into the bodies of the hundreds of guests that had made the obviously exclusive list of closest friends and family. Everyone was effervescent, their skin bright, mouths wide, and laughter infectious. Even Harlan had momentarily lost himself in the feeling. Without even realising, he was smiling from ear to ear as he watched his sister float across the room hand in hand with her husband. Suddenly the idea didn't seem so archaic after all. They were happy. Genuinely happy.

It only took one glance at his parent's and their respective lovers to remember that whatever sanctity there was in marriage had been well lost on people like them. It was no secret that Benjamin and Margery were both completely unfaithful to one another, particularly in the room filled with their upperclass circle, but they were insistent in keeping up appearance. They even went so far as to orchestrate their significant others to pretend that they were dating. A perfect excuse for them to be around the person that they actually wanted to spend time with.

The courses of the meal were brought one by one to each table, impeccably plated and staged to fit the theme of the evening. As dinner went out, even Harlan found himself more and more high on the event. That, or he was just getting progressively more intoxicated. Being seated with his family, sans date to entertain him or cause a scene with, did not bode well for the man. His oldest brothers' droning on about the goings on at the ministry was enough to make him want to join the table of his Aunt whose husbands had a penchant for mysterious deaths.

Just as he was certain that he might not make it to the end of the meal, the dance floor opened up after the the new couples inaugural dance. He could finally breathe. That was, until the equal parts delicious and dangerous hue of familiar red hair caught his eye. It couldn't be. Harlan shifted in his seat to get a better look around the crowd, breath heavier than it had been just a moment before. Honey. His heart jumped and then immediately nosedived into the pit of his stomach as he remembered how he had ended their last encounter. He was hurt. Irrationally so, but he was hurt. He had opened up to the woman in way that he hadn't in so long and the moment things didn't go his way, Harlan self- imploded, destroyed whatever relationship they created in his wake.

Harlan sat silently in the middle of the table with his hands planted firmly in his lap as he weighed the viable options. The way he saw it he could just as easily have ignored Honey for the remainder of the night. There was no shortage of space or crowd. Surely, he was the last person that she wanted to see as well. Instead, though, Harlan grabbed his wand and sent the place card that once had his brothers name on it floating to her, emblazoned now only with a simple 'H' and the number 2. Harlan had no idea how his gesture would be received but his hopes were certainly not high. He watched carefully as the proverbial white flag stopped right in front of Honey's face, floating gently in way that she could not ignore.

It was going to be at least an hour before the bride even wanted to consider cutting the cake. And seeing how the evening was going, according to the caterer, it would probably be longer. The grip on her flute of champagne tightened as she finished it off, before placing it lightly on the bar top and resuming her position leaning back against the far wall. At least an hour for her to stand here and not think about the man far on the other side of the room, not think about the million things she wanted to say to him but never would in a room full of people, not think about how much her feet were starting to hurt in heels so high.

She had made it almost five minutes without glancing in Harlan's general direction, mixed feelings equal parts anger and desire. But as she grabbed another flute of champagne off of a passing tray, the anger won out. The scene from their last encounter replayed in her head: Harlan inquiring where Will was and then segueing neatly into accusing her of using him for his fame. Never mind that they weren't exclusive and she could hardly want to have any more of a name than she already had by owning Honeydukes. The woman nearly snorted into her glass as she remembered the jealous look on his face, still completely convinced of her innocence in the entire thing.

Honey pulled the glass away from her lips, staring down at the faint trace of red lipstick on the rim as she thought better of having any more alcohol before the night was out. Anger or not, an alcohol-fueled Scotswoman with something to say was the last thing this reception needed. But for a woman determined not to be bothered by someone, she still looked over at him an awful lot. He was never looking back at her, would probably never even know she was there if she stayed put. She would be able to make it to cake time undetected and then slip out without him being any the wiser. He probably wouldn't be able to recognize how fantastic, gorgeous, and one-of-a-kind the cake really was, considering he had missed out on its creator.

Dancing started and the noise in the room increased, as well as the number of moving bodies between her and Harlan. She relaxed the slightest bit, checking off another activity in between now and cutting the cake. Finding a partner to dance with crossed her mind once or twice but she stayed put, firmly planted safely against the wall. She was successful in going another five minutes without looking his way, curious to know if he had found someone or two to spend the evening with, only to be distracted by a piece of paper floating through the air. It was no big deal, really, at any sort of magical event for things to be floating about this way and that, but this one seemed to be coming right towards her.

Thin fingers plucked the place card from the air, her eyes flickering from the 'H' and the '2' upwards towards the high table one more time. And this time, he was looking right back. Her immediate thought was to light the paper on fire and storm out but that could never bode well for her business. A safer, more subtle option would be to simply crumble it up and send it away with the next tray of empty plates that passed her. Another, more absurd offer, was to be mature about the whole situation and walk over to him.

She picked the absurd option. Honey straightened up and smoothed down the front of her dress, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear as she took a step forward. She fiddled with the place card in her hands as she walked, willing wedding guests to move out of her way so she could keep eye contact with Harlan. She was suddenly thankful for the subtle sun-kissed glow (ignoring the many new freckles) she had acquired in the Caribbean, compliments of the hours she had been able to spend outside while neither teaching at the ISS nor wearing any clothes. Surely Honey could hold off on letting him know that Mr. Dasher was planning to join her for these things soon, telling herself that she wanted to save that little tidbit of information for when she wanted to upset Harlan just the tiniest bit, hopefully more.

The tiniest part of her wanted to invite Harlan instead.

She shook her head clear of the thought as she approached; the table was, thankfully or not, unoccupied save for its one lone inhabitant. Inviting herself to sit, Honey settled sideways into the chair immediately to Harlan's right, her knees just shy of touching his leg. She delicately set the place card on the table in front of him, eyeing him with curiosity. She wanted to ask him what this was all about, tell him he shouldn't bother talking to her if he wasn't going to apologize, but she couldn't help but fall right back into whatever feeling she had before everything had gone so very far South. "Well, at least one Bellamy's got taste."

Through the ebb and flow of the crowd, Harlan watched carefully the reaction that was a direct result of his very action. He sat still. Steel grey eyes did most of the work as they peered around the pesky heads of bodies that separated he and Honey Bea Flume. Between perfectly tailored suits, coiffed hair, and expensive jewels, he caught glimpses of the only thing that he was looking for. She took her time, he noted. It didn't take that long to read two simple characters, which led him to the conclusion that she was conflicted. In all fairness, he couldn't blame the woman - their last encounter had ended on a less than positive note. For a moment in time, he felt guilt over how he had acted, but suffocated those thoughts somewhere where they could never find life.

Instead of breaking the contact that his gaze had on her, his eyes followed Honey as she made her way to the table, a small smile reluctantly pulling at the corner of his lips. Of course, the crowd seemed to move for her. The captain didn't dare blink now. As the new addition to the empty table made her grand entrance, Harlan adjusted in his chair to make room. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand, now half turned and facing the red haired witch. While she was make her comment, no doubt a subtle dig knowing her, he studied the proximity of her legs to his own. He couldn't help but smile. Same old Honey.

"The one who got married or the one who made the obviously impeccably convincing argument that Honeydukes has got the damn best red velvet cake in the country?" He responded matter-of-factly, words laced with a thread of mischief. There was a part of him that missed the banter that the two of them shared, before he had gone and burned the whole thing to the ground. Harlan, once wronged (even if only in his own mind), was more recklass than ever, and unfortunately Honey was collateral damage.

She was looking at him in that way. That damned way. That way made him feel as though it was imperative that he fill the silence with something, anything. Harlan obliged, suddenly aware of just how unsure he was of what he had wished to accomplish in inviting her to the table in the first place. Apologising was simply not in his nature, and he wasn't about to bow down to her just yet. "The cake looks nice," He commented, nodding to the now unattended dessert that occupied a large portion of the room. "Aren't you worried that you've left it unprotected?" Harlan shifted closer to her with a grin. "You've not left its side the whole evening," He immediately regretted relishing in the feeling of her skin against the side of his leg.

"You know, I think the family wouldn't mind if you relaxed a little," He shrugged into taking a sip of his drink, only just noticing that she was left without one. "I'll put in the good word," Harlan quipped. "Champagne or whiskey?" He prodded. That would certainly determine what the night held for her.

She was catching whiffs of him and his cologne, almost enough to make her want to stop breathing. It was too good and too familiar, only encouraging her to disregard the reason she was upset with him in the first place, that all she really wanted out of this was an apology. She leaned in just a bit, resting her chin in her hand much the same way that he was. “The former, I’m sure,” she answered with a slight shrug, though she was genuinely curious if he actually had been the one to recommend her and Honeydukes to his sister. The timeline was right for it, after all, the request from the bride coming in a little too close to the wedding date than well-established bakeries would care for. She would only be the tiniest bit grateful to him, of course, the rest of her being focused on the fact that maybe she owed him thanks at all.

But if Honey was curious, she did her best to not let it show on her face and was more than glad when he spoke again and didn’t give her the chance to inquire any further. She arched a brow at his compliment, turning her head to look back across the room at the cake. She had completely forgotten about it the instant they had made eye contact, but now that she was looking at it from afar, she couldn’t help but agree. “It does, doesn’t it?” She looked at it almost as intently as she had been looking at Harlan just a moment before.

Shrugging at his next question, Honey turned back to him, not minding at all that they were closer now. “I guess I was just waiting for a good reason to leave it.” Her smirk lingered on the edge of becoming a genuine smile, “I didn’t find one but I think you’ll do.” Never mind that both the cake and the table supporting it had about a million protective charms on it and now that he had mentioned it, she probably wouldn’t be able to stop worrying about it. Still, she was more distracted than she would like to admit at his use of the words ‘all night’, happy to know that she hadn’t been the only one stealing glances.

“Oh? Are you giving me permission to relax on behalf of the family?” She tilted her head the slightest bit as she raised an eyebrow. She could think of many things that she would rather be doing to relax and a couple of them certainly included her present company. Drinking probably wasn’t the wisest option; either she would have too much and let herself forget why she was mad at him or she would have too much and let him know why she was mad at him. Neither seemed like something she should be doing in front of a large crowd, especially one that included Harlan’s family and Honey’s potential customers, whom she had momentarily forgot existed. He seemed to have that effect, to look at her and make her think they were the only two people in the room.

It seemed like the only real option was drinking away from the crowd. She reluctantly tore her gaze away from Harlan’s face and shifted it over the other attendees. They were still very much in the throes of dancing and she wouldn’t be too far away. What harm would one drink really do? Turning back towards him with another smirk on her face. “Champagne, then,” she paused to grin as she recalled their first night together and the copious amounts of champagne she had then. “But only because you’re putting in a good word.”

She lifted a hand at a passing waiter, taking the opportunity to let her other hand shift casually to his knee as she requested a glass of champagne. “You look like you could use some air.” Her eyes flicked from his to the row of French doors lining one wall of the giant room, leading out into some combination of terrace and garden. The waiter was prompt and returned almost as soon as she asked him and she took the glass with a smile. Looking back to Harlan once more, she took a small sip as she shrugged. “Unless someone will be missing you while you’re gone, of course.”

Honey Bea Flume was never short of a quick-witted response. Infuriatingly so, in fact. Harlan metered his facial expression to not alert the woman to any sort of reaction. "You think?" He replied calmly, keep his eye on her even as her own gaze explored the room. One of these days, she was going to slip up. She was going to not be able to come up with the perfectly time retort. One this was for certain, Harlan wanted nothing more than to be there when she did. "How will I survive?" The Quidditch Captain nearly whispered from behind the rim of his glass, his words floating into the cacophony of the crowd as he took another slow sip between shakes of his head.

Harlan pondered the question in regards to giving her permission and his mind slipped to a more inappropriate place than he cared to recognize, let alone admit. "I am," He finally replied matter-of-factly, shifting to face Honey more directly now. "Don't make me regret it," He kept very serious, reminiscent of the muggle movies he had seen about the mobsters, although the smirk on his face had broken his facade. "The family never forgets," He put on his best American accent, the light-hearted banter uncharacteristic for the wizard. Perhaps the wedding bliss really really had cut through even his heart.

The hand rested casually on his leg had distracted Harlan so much that he almost missed the redheads's next statement. Maybe he really did need some air. The wizard sat up straighter now, his steel eyes following her suggestion to the doors that lined the reception hall, leading out to the grounds of the venue. "Any excuse to avoid the slow dance," He breathed, the swell of a romantic song filling the room.

He didn't wait for further instruction to stand. "Ah, she'll never notice," Harlan spoke over his shoulder. "I was waiting for a good excuse to escape," Harlan mimicked her earlier statement deviously. "I suppose you'll do," He shrugged, turning to make his way through the crowd before she could react.

The fresh outside air was welcoming, crisp in preparation for the change of season. "Hows business?" He spoke into the sky, turning to face Honey and lean casually against the cool stone ledge that separated the veranda from the gardens. He smiled up at her, eyes catching the illumination of string lights around them, aware of the irony of small talk between them given their last encounter. In some ways, it was almost as though they were starting from ground zero.

“Heavens, what a shock. Harlan Bellamy doesn’t dance.” Honey brought a hand up to her mouth in mock surprise, using it to hide her sudden and unwarranted disappointment that he hadn’t thought better of his evening and asked her to dance instead. After a few prolonged seconds she lowered her hand back to Harlan’s knee and brought her glass to her lips with the other, her expression turned serious once more. Still, she was pleased, despite herself, that he had agreed to it at all.

Harlan stood up and she followed suit, finding herself much closer to him than she had bargained for. She caught another whiff of him, though she was most certainly blaming her newfound feeling of lightheadedness on the alcohol rather than getting caught up in any semblance of nostalgia. But true to form, he knew exactly what she needed and brought her right back to the present with his next words. He was walking away before she could think of anything to say in return and she watched him with a narrowed gaze, not completely sure how this was going to play out.

Honey drained her champagne in three large swallows, leaving the empty glass on the table as she followed him outside, only taking her eyes off him long enough to search for another passing waiter with more champagne. It wouldn’t be ‘drinks outside’ without a drink; thankfully, there was no shortage of bubbly and Honey grabbed two full flutes before stepping out into the evening air. She joined him against the ledge, sitting Harlan’s glass of champagne on the surface between them, somehow not trusting herself to be able to hand him something without getting the wrong idea.

“Business?” Honey arched a well-groomed brow at the uncharacteristic question, but answered it all the same, glancing sideways. “Business is good,” she offered simply with a slight shrug of her bare shoulder. “Just recently installed new locks so inventory has stopped mysteriously disappearing.” She smirked over the rim of her glass as she took another sip; she hadn’t had any real problems with people stealing from her, but she would be remiss to pass up an opportunity to remind Harlan of his bout with breaking and entering, his lack of actual guilt irrelevant.

She set her glass down and gently hoisted herself up onto the ledge, scooting back the slightest bit and turning as much as possible towards Harlan before finding her glass again. “I doubt you really wanted to talk about Honeydukes, though, did you?” She took a slow sip of her drink and smirked. ”I’d ask you how quidditch was going, but I’d hate to ruin such a nice night.” She hadn’t let something like her anger towards Harlan keep her from following the playoffs, but she had certainly let her feelings towards him make the Griffins’ loss so much more enjoyable.