the road to hell is paved with good intentions [leifr]

It was just after midnight on a Saturday night and the Stag & Hen was alive with laughter and glasses clinking on tables and the steady hum of chatter. Tara Kingsley felt completely at home behind the bar. She was capable, quick with a smile, and efficient. Her hair was high in a pony and while she had worked a full day, she only felt the fringes of tiredness and not the full brunt of it. Annelise had stopped by only a half hour ago and she had enjoyed the conversation in between the copious orders she had filled while she chatted with her friend.

It had been a good night for tips too. The silver tip bucket held a nice sum of sickles, knuts, and even some muggle money. "Hey, boss," Tara called over her shoulder with a grin. Leifr was working the bar with her tonight and she took any and every opportunity to jab at him about the fact that he was technically her 'manager.' Tara was all about pushing boundaries and given their history, she just found their current situation humorous. "Can you pass one of those?" She nodded to one of the glasses he had been wiping down and then with bright eyes, caught the glass mid air with quick hands in a move that was well-practiced. They could be showy when they wanted and Tara laughed under her breath as filled it with beer from the tap.

"Here you are," she said as she slid it across the counter to a guy she had seen up at bar probably a few too many times tonight. He slurred a thanks, told her to add it to his buddy's tab, and then weaved his way back to the table he shared with five of his other similarly drunk buds. Tara flicked her eyes to the ceiling before giving a knowing look to Leifr. "That group is about done," she noted as she scooted past him to reach for a bottle of Jack.

And just then, as if her words had set the future in motion, the sound of glass shattering on the floor brought her head back up and her eyes narrowed in on the rowdy group in the corner. "What the hell," she hissed as she put down the glass and with grace, swung her legs up and jumped over the counter. Tara wasn't someone to stand around and let a group of knucklehead bros disrespect her place of work. The guys round the table raised their arms and yelled as if in victory and Tara saw more of them pick up their own glasses and move as if to smash them into the floor too. Not on my watch.

She picked up the pace and arrived at the table, her hands on her hips, and a feigned smile on her lips. "Now, now boys. What do you--" Tara started, but was cut short when strong arms jerked her off her feet. She found herself in the lap of one of the rowdy guys, his drunk, disgusting breath at her ear and his arms squeezing her close. The smile slipped off her face and was instead replaced by a cool rage, a capable hatred. She itched to use her wand, but knew there were muggles about, so instead quickly went to Plan B. Knowing exactly where to hit to hurt him, Tara moved to do just that but was interrupted before she got the chance to defend herself.

"Hey, boss,"

“Hey yourself” He shot back equally as playful. Even though he was technically her boss, along with Alicia’s and the few other stragglers that popped in every now and again, he never liked feeling like it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like being in charge, he did, but he wasn’t keen on telling people he saw as his friends how to act unless he really had to. It just wasn’t in his nature.

The Stag had done well for itself tonight, too, and tips would keep them all happy. Leifr had settled into the monotonous, but somehow equally satisfying routine of washing and drying glasses as the night wore on, and his extra set of hands wasn’t needed to man the bar anymore. At Tara’s request, Leifr casually tossed her the glass in his hand, and watched with a satisfied grin as it landed on target. They’d all managed to get good at little moves like that one in the downtime that sometimes visited the bar, and there wasn’t a customer who didn’t like a little flair every now and again.

He watched their most recent customer, a frequent visitor to the bar tonight, stagger up, and wander back towards the table he’d come from, fresh drink in hand. Leifr didn’t mind rowdy groups, as long as they left before they had to be carried out. But this particular group was pushing that particular envelope quite hard, and Leifr knew if he didn’t want a mess, an eye would have to be kept on them. He nodded in response to his friends comment “Yeah, just about. If they start acting up, we’ll toss them out. Send that unfortunate ‘buddy’ his tab.” And before the words were even out of his mouth, the situation had changed.

Leifr watched as Tara vaulted easily over the bar, and went to work. He’d had no intention of intervening, he knew that the witch was well and capable of defending herself should things get hairy. But that theory went out the window as quickly as the man had pulled Tara into his lap. Leifr knew he should let Tara handle the bum by herself, and knew that she could. But he didn’t stand for people forcing their way into another persons space when it was clearly unwanted. And a part of him would always look out for Tara. Having history, and a long past intimate relationship, made things a little different in his book.

In one movement the ex-Gryffindor swung himself over the bar, and strode toward the table, and Tara with long, purposeful steps. It didn’t take him long to reach the table, and when he did he was all business “I hate to break it to you boys, but the female staff isn’t for sale, nor for public consumption..” He gave the man holding Tara a very pointed look, and when he didn’t seem to take the hint, Leifr wasted no time in hauling him up by the back of his shirt, and toward the door “Not in my bar, asshole.” And when his captive tried to take a very drunken swing at him, the wizard laughed, and wordlessly chucked the man out the door, not taking care to see how he fell. With one problem taken care of, Leifr turned to see if the other rowdy boys had gotten his memo, or not.   

Tara was ready to jab a fist at this guy's dick who dared to touch her, but Leifr's voice and him hauling this guy's ass out of the chair robbed her of the opportunity. She was dislodged from the guy's lap and caught herself on the edge of the table as Leifr shoved the guy toward the door. The drunk dared to swing a fist at him and a tiny part of Tara was jealous that she couldn't do that herself because Leifr had intervened when she hadn't needed his help. She crossed her arms in front of her and glared at his back for a moment before addressing the rest of the asshole's friends.

"Finish up," she told them shortly, her tone and temper speaking for itself. She wasn't going to be tolerating any more from any of them and they weren't going to be receiving any more hospitality that night. She sent a scowl Leifr's way before she stomped back to the bar, walking along behind it, and picking up where she had left off. Her movements were quick and sharp and a little more forceful than she needed. When she realized she had cracked a glass, she stepped back and turned to Leifr. "Have a minute?" she hissed at him as she strode past him into the backroom, whirling when she heard him behind her, dark hair flying, green eyes sharp.

"What the hell was that?" she said angrily, lifting a hand to point out towards the main room. "You think I can't handle myself?" she threw the accusation at him and drew herself up straighter, propping her hands on her hips.

Saying nothing, Leifr followed Tara into the back room of the pub, guessing what was coming, and knowing that biding his time was his best option by far. Once the door shut behind him though, he wasted no time matching her acidic tone with his own “Don’t start with me, Tara.” He cut her off, eyes as angry as her own “You know damned well that I know you can handle yourself...don’t forget who you’re talking to..” He added gently. With his temper cooling, the ex-Gryffindor rubbed the back of his neck and threw his hands up in defeat.

“It’s not about me protecting you, T. It’s about this being my bar, and not letting some shithead act like an idiot in it. I would have done the same thing whether it was you or anyone else.” He told her truthfully. Had he gotten madder a little faster? Maybe, but he wasn’t going to admit that out loud, he knew better than that. He stayed silent for a few beats, not wanting to keep her from talking. And after a few seconds had ticked by he offered her an apologetic shrug, but didn’t say anything to go along with it.

He might have realized why she was upset, but that didn’t mean he was going to roll over. She might be mad at him, but he had the right to look after his business the way he wanted to. He was feeling irritable again, as he looked at the witch across from him “are we good?” He knew they likely weren’t, but he’d cross that bridge when they got to it.

"Don't start with you?" she threw right back at him, unafraid of his temper, not intimidated by that look of anger he shot at her. "I can f*cking handle myself so you can take your tiny little brain and your medieval mindset and suck it." He threw words back at her too and while they did slightly mollify her or at least the rational side of her, she still felt edgy. She had wanted to be the one to kick some guy's ass and she didn't appreciate Leifr taking that opportunity away from her.

She continued to glare at him as he spoke, her resting bitch face not lessening by any degree. Tara didn't like anyone feeling like she was weak enough that she needed protecting. And the fact that he had been so quick to rush to her 'aid' rankled her. His shrug, his silence, his eyes meeting hers had the heat of her irritation burning at her. She wanted to use a time turner and punch that dickhead in the face and then punch Leifr if he tried to step in again, but Tara gave up quickly on such an impossible idea.

"You know I f*cking hate when people do that," she told him, her tone full of thinly veiled bitterness. She stared at him for a few more seconds, her green eyes afire, arms crossed, brows perked incredulously at his question, and she found herself automatically shaking her head. "No we're not," she said, her anger and irritation getting the better of her. "Because you're probably just going to do the same thing next time too, right?"

And then an idea came to her. A memory of her and Leifr floated to the front of her mind. Back when they had both been Gryffindors in their Hogwarts years and how they had settled petty little arguments. She gave him a look, with less irritation and more of a challenge, as she took the wand from her pocket and held it in her left hand and stretched out her right arm to him, palm up.

"Burn off," she told him, naming the game that had stupidly made up and used often when they had been together. She wondered if he would remember it. How each would cast a heat charm with the tip of their wand on the other person's palm and steadily increase the heat of it. First one to flinch away, lost. She locked eyes with her, her green ones challenging, waiting, hoping.

His eyes narrowed dangerously at her first jab. That was low, and uncalled for, no matter what they were fighting over. He certainly hadn’t insulted her intelligence “Oh..f*ck off, Tara. I’m not some cretin looking to get in your pants by trying to impress you, so don’t treat me like one. We clear?” His temper was back, and burning hotly. He could handle her mouthing off to him, Merlin knew he’d done it before, but he wasn’t about to let her take a mile, when she only deserved an inch.

“Yeah, I do, I know just how much it bothers you..” He practically spat. He wasn’t feeling very patient, and at the moment it felt more like the witch was whining, than actually standing on any real grounds for argument “Stop whining. I already told you why I did what I did. I had to make a call and I did.” He fumed silently for a few more moments before adding “I said it once, but I’ll say it again; if there’s anyone I know who can look after themselves it’s you. But I will pull rank on you if you keep pushing it, damnit. And yeah, if I have to do it next time, you can bet your ass I will.” He locked eyes with her, fully prepared for the argument that was almost certain to follow.

It was one of the downsides to working with an ex, as he had learned over the years, and while there were upsides, these moments made him rue them all the same. He waited, posture firm and unrelenting, telling of how he was likely to react to any further conflict. But then her suggestion caught him off guard. He waited for a moment, debating as to whether or not to bite at her challenge, and the pridefulness in him couldn’t back down. Shooting her an amused, but still irritated look, the brunette crossed the room and extended his own arm while drawing his own wand “Burn off.”

Giving her one lats chance to back out, as he always had he challenged her in turn “Sure you can beat me? Might be wiser to back down...”

"And I'm not some damsel in distress that needs saving," she answered right back. Her temper matching his temper and had her wondering how they had been together all those years. Oh yeah, right. Because this has happened back then too. "We clear on that?" she threw right back at him. She pushed her hair over her shoulder in irritation, the long dark curtain of her shiny locks swinging over her shoulder as she set her hands on her hips.

His quiet fuming only served to irritate her more. Whining? Her jaw dropped open as she looked at him with incredulity, an affronted scoff coming from her lips even as he continued to rant. "You're a moron then," she said, her eyes flashing with defiance and stubbornness. The rational part of her brain knew he was just looking out for her. But that part wasn't the one that was in control right now and the part that was wouldn't listen to a lick of sense.

She refused to back down and refused to look away. And so she saw his surprise at her challenge and only smiled more because of it. His surprise morphed into something she was all too familiar with and she knew she had him. When he got close enough, she set the tip of her wand down on his outstretched, upturned palm and now finally grinned at him. "Sure? I'm going to win this hands down," she told him confidently. Ignoring the fact that he had always been the one to win. Ignoring the fact that she hadn't done this in so long that she wasn't sure she could hold the spell. Whatever, she thought and drew her chin up, her green eyes glittering. "On three," she told him and then counted down with a sure, smooth voice.

At the last number, she cast her charm with a whisper and she watched from the corner of her eye the tip of her wand flare with a burning red-orange. Any second now she knew she would feel the heat from his wand as well and she steeled herself in preparation.

Leifr barely managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Tara’s retorts. He knew she was mad, but she was damn irritating and had a way of getting under his skin that she’d perfected years ago. And he still hadn’t found a way to let it roll off his shoulders like he knew he should be able to do. Gritting his jaw, the ex-Gryffindor rolled his shoulders in irritation, but managed to bite his tongue as Tara kept needling him with her words.

Ah, there it was he felt a small smile quirk his lips as he pulled his own wand and pressed it firmly against her palm. This was a game that they had played countless times when they’d been together all those years ago, and yet in some ways it was comforting to know that they could still settle their arguments the same way they had back then. He was entirely confident that he would beat her like he always had, but also knew that he wouldn’t know until it was over.

Nodding slightly at her words he silently waited for the word three to pass her lips, unconsciously tensing up as he did so, waiting for the old but familiar lick of heat against his palm. Whispering the incantation Leifr watched as the tip of his wand illuminated against Tara’s palm, then flicked his eyes to his own palm as he felt the warmth start to near a burning sensation. It was game on, and he didn’t like to lose.

She kept her green eyes on his as the skin on her palm heated and then shortly started burning. Tara grinned though, the thrill and headiness of competition taking her on a high. "Give it up, Trickett," she taunted. "You know I'm going to win this one."

She secretly grit her teeth though. The burning was getting worse and hell if she didn't want to pull away already. Her eyes flicked down to the glowing tip of his wand on her palm and she noticed from the corner of her eye that her hand was shaking ever so slightly. Dammit. Tara steeled herself and stuck her chin out, her tell for that stubborn side of hers making an appearance.

It felt like ages but it was probably only seconds. Her hand was burning and the pain was radiating up her arm. She knew a healing charm would fix it in seconds, but in the heat of the moment (literally), it was hard to stand. What was worse was her hurt pride, especially for someone like Tara who liked to win at all costs, was when she pulled her palm away and muttered a curse at her friend slash boss for winning.

"I hate you," she told him shortly but without heat as she glanced back at him, holding her burned hand in her other.