silvertongue : honey bea

"Shit" Harlan Bellamy whispered from deep within his chest, voice low, as he slid past a stranger that had rushed up to him with quill in hand no doubt to get his signature. He only had one thing in mind, and nothing was going to get in his way. The captain's steely gaze focused with purpose on Honeyduke's Sweetshop. The store front was an oasis of colour and life amidst the muted faces of nearly every other place in Hogsmeade, practically shouting out at him. Harlan's pace quickened as he took in the lack of life within, his gaze shooting to the large clock tower in the middle of the square. Nearly midnight. Closed.  

Every year, no matter where the wizard found himself in the world for his profession, he made his way back to Honeyduke's. One year, he walked out right in the middle of a press conference to apparate despite strict warning from previous handlers and public relations managers. This year would not be any different. It couldn't.

Without hesitation, he pushed through the door (which he had fully expected to be locked) and fell through the threshold, nearly losing control of his perfectly poised stature. In that moment he couldn't help but curse the kid on his team, with whom he had stayed late after their game to keep from getting his ass kicked by the opposing team. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't gracious in loss or in win, and Harlan had made it his personal mission to keep him in line.

"Hello?" The wizard called out as he searched for any sign of life. For the past three years he had dealt with the same employee, but the stranger was no where to be seen. Harlan made his way to the spot where he knew the Glacial Snowflakes would be waiting for him, propped up on the top shelf and stacked nearly. The man had no personal interest in the sweet, but Arya Atarwal did; He couldn't pass the date of Arya's birthday without struggling through a packet of them in her honour. "I'm going to pay..." Harlan snatched the familiar red box from the shelf as his free hand dug in the pocket of his jeans for a few galleons, fully intending to leave on good terms. "I'll just leave this... here," He went to set his payment on the counter, with a few extra for good measure, when the sign of life caught his attention.

@Honey Bea Flume

The chime of the bell that hung above the front door had become so familiar to Honey Bea that she almost didn't hear it. But the lack of quiet downstairs was enough to pull the woman out of her sleep. She sat upright, quickly rubbing the sleep out of her eyes before snatching up her wand from the side table and stumbling out of bed. She hadn't had a break-in since she had inherited the shop from her father, but she could clearly remember one such occasion from her childhood where her mother had taken care of the intruder with some clever wandwork before waiting for law enforcement.

This time, however, Honey did not want to have to deal with the mountain of paperwork associated with getting the legal system involved. She was woman enough to take care of this herself. She didn't pause to tame her hair, which was quite tousled and sticking up in the back, or to think about putting pants on under the overly large t-shirt she was wearing as a night gown. She had no time to waste if she was going to keep the element of surprise on her side.

She crept through the door to her apartment as quietly as possible, aiming to sneak down the spiral staircase with as much stealth as she could muster. Honey stopped about halfway down, stopping just short of the creaky stair that led into the shop. She raised her wand, slowly, doing her best to stay hidden, hoping to be able to disarm him before he could get the better of her, or more importantly, find the till.

Before she could say a thing, she heard her intruder speak. Her big, beefy, and physically intimidating intruder. She lowered her wand just a bit as he mentioned that he was just going to leave something there on the counter, though she couldn't quite tell what it was from her spot. Honey moved down the rest of the stairs, at least noting that he didn't have a wand in his hands, but a box of candy, Glacial Snowflakes from the look of the box.

"Uh, whatcha doin'?" Her accent was thick after just waking up, her wand still raised in case she needed it. "I don't know if you noticed, but we're closed."

A small voice laden with sleep that called out to him from somewhere to the left of where he had just placed his coins caught the Quidditch player entirely off guard. Just when he thought he was going to make it home without dealing with anymore people. Damn. Despite his surprise, Harlan made no sudden movements. Instead his steely blue eyes slowly crept up to study the woman with whom he could assume, based on context clues, was the owner of Honeydukes. She certainly look familiar... despite her alternative choice of attire.

"The door was open," Harlan almost smiled, but stopped short with a shrug of his broad shoulders. Although he was certain that his robust figure was not the ideal one a storeowner would want to find in their closed place of business, he hadn't done anything wrong and he was not about to apologise. Not with The Pride of Portree poster that he noticed was staring him down from behind the counter.

"I've paid," He grumbled, motioning to the coins with the box of sweets that he had half struggled to open. "It was an honest mistake," He explained as his fingers started again at their mission to pop open the top of the notoriously tough packaging. "It wouldn't be a stretch to assume people were avoiding the place... Prides posters an' all," Harlan's gaze, now glimmering with the slightest hint of mischief, challenged her own before flicking back to the logo. 

Finally as the top popped off of the Glacial Snowflakes, Harlan let out a breathy sigh of relief. Although his battle was only half way won now, he still had to eat them. "Bloody packaging isn't even worth these little things," He piped up, forgetting momentarily that he was in the company of a stranger. A stranger that just so happened owned the place and likely had vested interest in her product. Harlan popped a handful of candies into his mouth with a look of disgust, his head shaking back and forth slowly. The things he did for tradition.

"Mhmm." It was very likely that the door had indeed been open; Honey had had quite the busy night in the kitchen and had barely enough energy to was the tray bits of chocolate out of her hair before crashing. But likely or not, they had clearly been closed and the woman didn't exactly appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night for business reasons. The hours were still posted on the door, the door that he had apparently waltzed through moments earlier.

So he had paid but wasn't leaving. This man was not a very sneaky intruder. She noticed him fumbling with the box of candy he had grabbed and was close to offering to help him for Merlin knew why, when he opened his mouth again.

Oh ho ho. First he breaks in to her shop, then he tries to steal a box of candy (and not even the best candy) but now he had the nerve to insinuate that she had no business because she supported Pride of Portree. "You must be really confident to insult my quidditch team while I still have my wand pointed at you." She wasn't necessarily going to hex him now, but she was much closer to doing that now than she had been when he was just a burglar.

"Yeah that packaging really confuses the children," Honey said with smirk, finally moving down the rest of the stairs into the shop proper. She lit the lights behind the counter with her wand as she walked towards it, heading around to the 'employees only' side. The woman kept her wand in her hand, both because she was still dealing with a large man eating candy in the middle of the night and that she had no pockets since she was sort of lacking in pants. She reached out with her free hand to slide the money towards her across the counter, finally pausing to get a good look at the man.

Yikes. No wonder he didn't like her poster. Honey kept up very closely with quidditch; more than just the current league standings. The trade to get him for the Griffins was front page news and had been accompanied by a very flattering photo of him, which also helped pique her interest all the more. And now she was regretting not dressing up more for confronting the man that she thought was stealing from her, or at the very least taming her hair.

Too late for that now. She picked up the coins from the counter, trying to decide if she wanted to tell him that he had left too much, but instead settling on a much more pressing question: "Did I miss the part where the Griffins knocked Portree out of the top of the league?"

Harlan nearly spat the icy cool sweet straight from his mouth at the response of his red haired companion whose name he was yet to be privy to. Apparently her penchant for pantlessness was paralleled only by her knowledge of quidditch and her ability to make less than satisfactory candies. The captain took his time to finish his mouthful as his stern gaze kept focused precision on hers, not daring move for fear of showing any sign of weakness. If there was something that Harlan Bellamy disliked most, it was losing.

"Just you wait," The wizard warned. "They can't keep up that streak much longer. Griffins haven't peaked just yet," Harlan explained, his voice taking the authoritative tone that he had created for whenever he addressed the team or press professionally. "The lineup is new, relatively speaking," He assured, uncaring if his rant had begun to bore her. She asked for it, as far as he was concerned.

As his tirade reached it's completion Harlan became aware of just how out of place he had made himself. Closed shop, half eaten pack of candy, and an owner who was quite visibly not expecting an uninvited customer. "Was I keeping you from something?" He eyed her lack of clothing with a small smile although his tone remained impossibly dry. "You really should lock the door - never know who's around Hogsmeade these days," The wizard joked, although his words fell flat. It was too soon to be making a comment of the sort so soon after the war.

Honey raised her eyebrows as she listened to what seemed like a very well rehearsed response to her jab about his team. She nodded and shrugged, not wanting to actually provoke him too much, eyeing the outlines of his biceps even through his clothing. "You should probably peak soon, seeing as the season's nearly over." Though if he could wait to be brilliant until after the Griffins played Portree, that would be nice. Honey had tickets for the last two Portree home matches, one of them being against the Griffins, and she really didn't want to have wasted her money to see a disappointing match, never mind that she had actually been closely following the Griffins' progress all season as well.

The witch sighed, pulling down on the edges of her night shirt a bit as he posed his own question. "Just something that is probably much less exciting than whatever you're thinking about." She returned his smile with a small, sweet one of her own. Had the weather been just a tad warmer, she probably would have lost the shirt altogether before going to bed; pity he hadn't waited to break in until July. Still, she was somewhat relieved that she had been alone in the first place. Confronting her intruder would be a lot less fun with someone else hanging around.

"I don't know if you noticed, but the Ministry still has a huge presence here even after the dome coming down," she said with a small shrug, not willing to admit that she had simply forgotten to lock the door before she went to bed. "Either way, the hours are posted on the door," she paused to smirk, "Or have one too many bludgers to the head impaired your reading abilities?" Honey finally took the opportunity to open the till and deposit the galleons he had left for her, not bothering to make any change for him. Call it an after hours tax.

She eyed the partially eaten box of candy in his hands, finally calling to attention the most important question she should be asking: "Is there a reason you couldn't wait until we were open to get those? You don't even look like you're enjoying them, though that could just be your regular face, I'm not sure." She smirked again, motioning towards the candy.

Harlan busied himself with another handful of sweets, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that this complete stranger had found a way to push every one of his buttons within the first five minutes of knowing him. Was he really that easy to read? The man prided himself for having one of the best poker faces in the game, although it seemed that not even that was helping him in the current conversation. Quietly he wondered if she was privy to his notoriously bad temper.

Between a stern shake of his head, the captain spoke up again. The seriousness he held his team under was quite evident, even in a conversation with a stranger. In fact, the wizard was only displaying a fraction of the tough personality that was his professional self. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see," He referenced their upcoming game against Portree. "Will the Prides number one fan be at the game?" He continued innocently enough, tempting her to share more about herself without having to truly ask.

As the shop owner cast a cursory glance at her attire, Harlan's eyes followed obediently, unbothered by the fact that he was certainly not being a perfect gentleman in the moment. Trying and failing to suppress his smile, the blond gave a shrug of his broad shoulders, a glimmer of mischief sparking in his eye now signifying that his imagination was more than enough.

Harlan's face dropped, though, as the redhead threw another casual insult in his direction. She was quick on her toes, he would give her that much. He was not yet sure if that was a good or a bad thing. If the witch was trying to rile him up, she was certainly doing a good job at it. "Must be it," He resigned, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

"I had to get them tonight," Harlan replied without thinking. He mentally slapped himself for being so brash as his eyes closed momentarily, regret evident. This was not something he cared to explain in detail. Particularly to her. Keep it simple, he commanded himself. "It's a tradition," He began. "For a friend," He paused at the title he chose, cringing at his own inability to open up even a little. Arya was far from a friend and this was far from just a tradition, but this woman didn't need to know that.

"Are you always this accommodating to customers?" He quickly changed the subject, brushing off any sort of emotion as soon as it hit him in the chest. Harlan noticed that she hadn't even offered change and inwardly smiled to himself. As much as he hated to admit it, he liked this her style.

"Well as the number one fan, I have to be there," she sighed with a shrug, a bit disappointed that she couldn't ask him if he was planning to be there. "I'm almost completely sure that knocking a bludger into the stands is a pretty major foul, though, so don't get any ideas." The woman smirked again, folding her arms across her chest.

He had to get them tonight, which made it seem like he had gotten them on this night before. She did her best to rack her brain, to try and remember him being in the shop before, but apparently she had only started paying attention to him after the Griffins trade, because she was having a hard time remembering him doing this before, either during open hours or not. She knew of more than one reason for candy traditions, having been the sounding board for grieving widows, for happy couples, for birthday boys, on more than one occasion, and she wasn't about to invite him to spill his reasoning any time soon. The only thing worse than an intruder was an emotional intruder.

Honey raised a brow at his question. "Oh, no, this is my 'Burglars Only' special," she replied sweetly, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter in front of her, her chin resting on her fist. "And tradition or not, you don't like the snowflakes," she stated this matter-of-factly, having had years of experience figuring out which candy suited which witch or wizard. "You need chocolate, and not white chocolate," she tilted her head towards the box still held in his hands, "And something with a kick." She straightened up, again tugging down the end of her shirt before walking around the counter, and down the row of shelves along the far wall. "These," she plucked a box from a shelf around chest height, turning back around to head back to her spot behind the counter.

She pushed the box across the counter towards him. It was a gold box with black lettering, the big Honeydukes H twinkling just enough to be noticeable in the dim lighting. "Dark chocolate truffles with various liquor centers, on the house," she shrugged, neglecting to mention that even after throwing in this box of chocolates, he had still overpaid her. "And if that doesn't whet your whistle, you can skip the chocolate all together and go straight for the liquor." She had made the truffles in the box in front of her, and had bottles of each of the liquor stocked in the kitchen. While the smart side of her was telling her to not offer alcohol to a stranger, in the middle of the night, while in her nighty, the fun side of her was vehemently agreeing with her.

Harlan involuntarily let out a series of dry chuckles from deep within his chest. He hit a closed fist against said appendage, that was covered in layers of warm clothing designed to combat the English winter, in an attempt to avoid death by choking on peppermint sweets. The last thing he wanted was to let this woman know that he was even the slightest bit amused by her banter. Although it seemed he could fight it no longer. The captain took a moment to compose himself before retorting. "Wouldn't waste a perfectly good bludger, love," He countered, his laughs quickly stopped and were replaced by an innocent smile, his eyes hard on her.

Thankful that this new stranger was even less apt to indulge in emotional talk than he was, Harlan's shoulders dropped with the lightness of his newfound relaxation. Metaphorically, it was a weight lifted. He wouldn't have to dodge any sort of conversation that he wasn't open to having and she wouldn't have to deal the hum drum of conversation with someone she didn't even know. He was liking this one more and more as time went on, it seemed.

Harlan's grey eyes followed Honey with piqued interest as she reached for another treat promised to be one that he would actually enjoy. Although he was never one for sweet things, he found that he hung on every word like he hadn't seen something of the sort in a lifetime. Slapping himself back to the ground, Harlan reminded the indulgent part of his being just how annoying this woman had proven herself to be over the course of their conversation. A pair of legs could hardly be defined as a distraction, after all.

"Hm," He took a step toward the counter, eyeing the decadent box under the dim lighting before casting a cautionary glance back up to her expectant face. "Honestly, chocolate was never my thing," He shrugged his shoulders although his hands told a different story, breaking open the box with ease and wiggling out a dark chocolate treat. Harlan took a bite, his face turning down at it once it had reached his tastes buds. "What's in this?" He tossed the bite around in his mouth in an attempt to identify the flavour. Without another word, he held the sweet up to Honey's mouth. Perhaps the liquor option was proving itself to be the better choice.

"Oh phew, that's very reassuring," she said, returning his smile and his gaze. Not that she was particularly worried he would send a bludger her way, as that would require good aim, but it was still good to know. Plus, she would be hard to pick out in the crowd anyway, blending in with all the other pale, freckly, ginger Scots that would surely be there to support Pride of Portree.

Honey's mouth fell open in mock offense. "Not your thing? You know you broke into Honeydukes right?" She could go on and on and on about how they were known for their chocolate, how she spent years going to school to learn more about chocolate, but she had just given him some of Honeydukes' best chocolate. Chocolate she had made and boxed herself no more than 24 hours ago. All chocolate bets were off if he didn't like them.

And he didn't like it. But he didn't spit it out, and he didn't seem like the sort to mind his manners about that sort of thing, so he didn't hate it at least. "What's in it?" She leaned forward slightly to get a better look, smell, whatever, of the chocolate he was holding out to her. She had half a mind to just take the bite from him, to eat the chocolate he was offering, if only to identify the flavor, but she was getting way, way ahead of herself. "Blackberry liqueur," she said, shaking her head clear of any thoughts unrelated to chocolate. It was a deep purple filling, she didn't need to taste it to know that it wasn't one of the other options: orange, amaretto, rum, or any other decidedly not-purple choice.

She didn't bother leaning back, instead plucking out one of the chocolates for herself. She held it up to her mouth, only pausing to say, "Don't feel obligated to finish." Honey popped the chocolate in her mouth, fully expecting the almond flavor of the amaretto filling. She really did need to congratulate herself on such a beautiful chocolate job well done, fully enjoying what she was tasting. But no matter how amazing Honey thought her work was, he was clearly not impressed, and that was unacceptable. She smiled as she straightened up, waiting for a clear mouth before posing her next question: "So, is there anything you do like?" She waited a beat before adding, "Can I convince you to take that 'go straight for the liquor' option?"



Not waiting for a response, Honey retreated to the kitchen through a door behind her. "I have options," she called from the kitchen, inviting him back to the pantry, where she stood in front of a deep shelf full of liquors, cordials, and other flavorings she used for her sweets. She half expected to hear the tinkling bell of the door as he exited, not taking her up on her offer, but the other half that expected him to follow her was much more sure of itself.

As his gaze flicked between Honey's and the mystery purple liquid that was oozing down the sides of his half eaten truffle, Harlan tossed the first bite over his tongue to identify the flavour. While he had assumed (not so innocently) that she would eat the other half, the woman had proven herself as even more surprising than she had been just moments before - a theme he had noticed already. He reminded himself that the person who made the treat his or herself would likely have a better idea of what was inside of it based on a cursory glance.

Harlan popped the other half in his mouth; somewhere in the back of his mind having been reminded of the food rules that had impressed upon him as a child. Despite the fact that he had broken almost every other thing taught to him in etiquette class speaking with his mouth open was simply not one of them. The same could be said for turning down an offer of hospitality.

"I hadn't said I didn't like it," The wizard replied matter of factly. It was certainly easy to read his quiet and often times entirely too serious demeanour as being unpleased, but Harlan failed to see the correlation. He watched with interest as Honey flitted off through a back door, eyes flashing to the heaps of boxes and displays once she was out of his line of sight - although he wouldn't admit it, he was impressed. The thought of staying in doors all day in kitchen was about as appealing to him as a desk job, but he was certainly happy to reap the benefits.

The quidditch player took a stop forward and almost instantly stopped in the tracks, heels planted firmly on the ground. It would have been just as easy now to make a quick exit and not have to keep up a conversation with a stranger, but Harlan found that he was conflicted. Despite the fact that human interaction was not one of his strongest suits, or something that he particularly enjoyed with someone he did not know, he was drawn to door. Perhaps it was the promise of a stiff drink he justified as he peeked through the threshold to the kitchen.

"Wow," He stepped through and toward Honey who was now on her toes looking through various bottles of alcohol and sweet flavours for the fillings of her candies. "You're sure its a sweet shop you're running here?" Harlan offered a small smile to indicate that he was only giving her a hard time. She had given him enough of that as it was, he was sure she wouldn't mind. "Dealers choice," He made himself comfortable as he hoisted his body on the table across from her to have a seat. "So you make all of this? On your own?" Harlan leaned back on his palms as he studied the kitchen.

She had to keep herself from smirking too much when she heard his voice in the kitchen behind her. "I'm pretty sure, " Honey moved her gaze towards her intruder turned guest and returned his smile before flicking it back to the bottles before her. "But now that you mention it," her voice trailed off, almost seriously contemplating starting up a little side business of less the legal activities if the candy stopped pulling in the galleons.

"Gotcha," she acknowledged his request for her to choose his drink. She scrunched up her face in thought as she took in all her options: she was fairly certain he wouldn't like any of the cordials, anything flavored, really anything she would want to drink herself. There was an unopened bottle of Scotch gathering a bit of dust, having been a gift from someone or other. Honey Bea was clearly not a huge fan of that particular liquor, and it was that she settled on for him. She grabbed that bottle with one hand and a bottle of peppermint schnapps with the other.

She reentered the kitchen proper, quirking an eyebrow as she saw took in where he had decided to take a seat. "Well, everything that's made in house, yeah." It was about an even split homemade versus outside vendors. The Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, things like that were all shipped in, but the cakes, most of the chocolates, the fudge, really the best tasting things were all made in the kitchen where they stood.

Honey set the bottles on the table next to him before turning back around to grab a glass, a mug, and a jar of chopped up dark chocolate pieces. "Do you often visit businesses when they're closed?" she asked as she turned back to him, setting everything in her hands next to the alcohol. Into the glass she poured a few fingers worth of Scotch and slid it over with a smile. "I'm Honey, by the way, since you're not supposed to take candy from strangers, and you're probably not supposed to take Scotch either."

She filled up the mug with the chocolate, melted it with her wand, and poured in just enough schnapps to taste it, but not enough to overpower the chocolate flavor. There was no rule saying she couldn't drink and have chocolate at the same time.

Harlan, who was now comfortably pushing back on the palms of his hands, scanned the kitchens as Honey spoke. He was completely in awe of the amount of work that went into the machine that was Honeyduke's but he masked it well, the stoic expression on his face constant. Surely people thought the same about being the captain of a professional quidditch team, but he failed to see any sort of parallel as he took in the room. The two of them could not have been any more different but he found that that was exactly why he was so eager to learn more.

"Well I suppose you've got to keep up the work if you plan to deter so many customers with your choice of team," Harlan smirked, his gaze meeting hers only briefly for fear he may break into a legitimate smile. "I don't usually," He confessed in response in to her question. "Although most don't leave the door open so you've really monopolised the market," He continued with a cross of his ankles. For someone who was so uncomfortable with new people, Harlan had certainly made himself at home.

He watched with interest as the amber liquid filled the glass although he waited to touch it until her own concoction was complete. "Not one for scotch, then?" He let out a dry chuckle her drink was mixed. "Thank you," He held up his glass to her. For the first time in the night his face was honestly appreciative. Although she couldn't have possibly known it, this was exactly what he needed.

"To Honeyduke's," He proposed. "If only I'd had the privilege of a private tour while I was at Hogwarts," Harlan smiled to himself as their glasses hit. "The amount I've dates I'd taken here," He closed his eyes with a shake of his head as he took a long sip, his mind far away from the present. It was easy to assume that this would have been the ideal date in his younger years when he usually would have settled for buying the girl a few sweets and hoping for the best.

"Harlan," The wizard finally countered her own introduction after the liquid had completely travelled down his chest in a fiery procession. He held out his free hand to offer a handshake despite the fact that she had made it perfectly clear that she had known exactly who he was prior to. "How's your hot chocolate?" He smiled to her from behind the rim of his drink, making it clear that he wasn't going to play nice just yet.

Honey nearly snorted as he brought the conversation back around to quidditch. As much as she loved defending her team, she would much rather keep talking about how awesome Honeydukes was. "I'm surprised you're letting a post get to you that much," she flicked her gaze over him with another smirk. "I was getting a much more confident vibe from you.. pity." She merely rolled her eyes as he once more claimed that the front door was left unlocked; it would be much easier to deny the fact if she refused to acknowledge it.

"Somehow 'sweet Scotch' isn't really a thing yet, no matter how hard I try," she said with a sigh as she stirred up her drink, dipping her finger in to test the temperature. It was perfect, as usual. She pulled her finger from her drink and slipped it into her mouth, keeping it there a few seconds more than necessary. She wasn't sure when she had decided to start having fun with all of this, but she wasn't yet regretting the decision. Honey brought her mug to his and returned his Honeydukes toast, smiling as she sipped at her drink as he kept on about things.

"Probably a good thing though. The private tour would have been a little awkward since my dad owned it then, and I definitely do not take after his side of the family." She motioned her free hand to her head and trailed it down her side, trying to stop him from having any more thoughts about any other dates he had brought here. Not that she was considering this a date, by any means, considering the circumstances, but she had ended more than one date in this kitchen. She brought her hand back up to meet the other on her mug, taking another sip.

Honey switched the mug to her other hand to free up the clean one, offering up an "Mmhmm," at his name and handshake. She wasn't a fan of recognizing the other person without being recognized in return, thinking she was basically on the same level of talent as any quidditch player, even the good ones that weren't sitting in her kitchen. "Well, I made it, so it's pretty amazing," she said, looking down at her drink. She wasn't exaggerating here, not even minding the taste of the alcohol mixed in.

She set the mug down on the table and hoisted herself up onto it, picking up her mug again after she got herself situated. "You're here now, so if you still want that tour, I'll see what I can do." She glanced sideways at him as she took another larger sip of her hot chocolate, getting quite more schnapps with this taste than she had before.

Harlan watched on with an amused smile as Honey gave her drink an innocent enough taste test with her finger. Surely she wasn't doing it on purpose but he couldn't fight the fact that his interest had been piqued despite his every effort to ignore it. Although the thirty-year old knew it was impolite to stare formalities were the last thing on his mind. He shook his head through a smile, his gaze finally diverting to his own drink before taking another sip. How he had ended up here, he was unaware.

"What, the old man wouldn't invite strangers for drinks in the middle of the night" He pressed on jokingly before Honey could continue. He had been to Honeyduke's countless times while he was at Hogwarts but for the life of him he couldn't put a face to the person who had been running it at the time. He chalked it up tot he fact that he was had obviously been distracted by whoever he had chosen to try and impress.

Despite the fact that he had been momentarily distracted by his own memories, the woman in front of him had once again proven captivating enough to tear him away from that. His steely blue gaze followed her hand as it motioned down her body. Where he thought she had been unaware of her ability to keep his attention, now he was sure that she was toying with him.

"Was he as self assured as his successor?" Harlan bit his lip into a wince with his front teeth, fully prepared for retaliation. She couldn't go around boasting about her amazing skills without some sort of flack from him, even jokingly.

Harlan shifted to make room for Honey who had hoisted herself to be seated next to him on the counter. "You'd put in a good word with the owner even after I've broken and entered?" He almost grinned but stopped just short. "Royal treatment for thieves such as myself I see," Harlan mused, now thoroughly enjoying the burn of his drink as it travelled down his throat.

"Is this where you murder me now?" He joked ominously, his dark sense of humour making a rare appearance as he let his guard down in the slightest. "Lured me back here with chocolates and booze..." Harlan mused with a dramatic sigh and slump of his shoulders. "All part of your grand plan to give the Pride the upper hand," He concluded, bumping his shoulder against her in jest.