hard habit [harlan]

june 2001

Honey Bea Flume loved birthdays, especially other peoples’  birthdays, and extra especially birthdays she was asked to bring chocolate to. The birthday in question was for one of Harlan’s teammates and the chocolate in question was a fairly magnificent chocolate scupture, different kinds of chocolates shaped into various designs, combined with orbs of colored chocolates shaped to look like quidditch balls, complete with beating snitch wings.

And Honey was fairly certain she looked just as good as her gift, if not better. Her hair was pulled back into a low braided bun, accentuating the backless nature of the black dress she was wearing. It had been a couple weeks since she and Harlan had seen each other, with various reasons, excuses, and schedule conflicts getting in the way, so she wanted to be sure she looked her best (and she was pretty sure she had come close).

She gave her name at the door and was met with a warm but unfamiliar face that offered to show her in. There was a flurry of activity going on; clearly this wasn’t turning out to be the intimate gathering she had been promised. But Honey didn’t mind. That just meant there would be more people present to appreciate all her hard work that she had put into the chocolate she had in tow in the air behind her. Plus, she had made it much larger than it should have been for just a handful of people, anyway. Her first priority was putting her sculpture on display and then she could put her affections for Harlan on display, too.

Honey followed the woman who let her in through the first crowded room and caught the slightest glance of that particular Griffin, his blond hair easy to spot over some of the shorter heads in the way. She smirked but turned her attentions back to finally putting the sculpture down on a table near the edge of the room, other smaller and less impressive cakes and treats surrounding it.

Once that was finally taken care of, Honey pushed her way through the crowd, eager to see and say hello to Harlan. But as she found less and less people in between them, the less sure she was that the very tanned, very leggy, and very hot woman hanging on to him was just using him for balance. Honey suddenly felt very pale and very ginger. Was it too late to leave? Had he seen her yet? She hadn’t exactly made a quiet entrance but maybe if she turned around right now..

Nope, that was direct eye contact. She swallowed hard, doing her best to not look just how extremely offended she felt. It wasn’t like they were exclusive — far from it — but at least she had the common decency not to bring other men around when she had the intention of seeing Harlan, nor was she overly blatant about the fact that there were other men at all. This woman was hot, though. She had to at least give him credit for that.

He had taken a step towards her now, and the clever thing she was preparing to say eluded her. “Know where the loo is?” she asked, doing her best to look as unbothered by all of this as she possibly could be, though her scowl was probably giving herself away.

Despite the long tanned fingers that were exploring the fabric over his chest and lower back, Harlan could not focus on anything but the door of the bar that he had inhabited for the early evening as the birthday festivities unfolded. Liam, a trainer for the Griffins, had turned forty, and it was enough excuse for someone to throw him a lavish get together in the city, chalk full of the finest quidditch players in the professional league and their decided plus ones. Said establishment was buzzing with enough activity to distract Harlan for a lifetime but he nonetheless could not tear his conscience away from the very last person that he wanted to waste another moment on. Honey Bea Flume. Chocolatier, red haired woman, and likely the bane of his very existence.

Things had started innocently enough between the two of them. Harlan, conditioned by his less than reliable relationship history, assumed that their affair would have ended weeks ago after having first slept together, but that was not the case. Honey, true to being the absolute thorn in his side, had simply stuck. Two nights turned into ten and before he knew it, the notoriously closed off wizard slowly exposed himself to her. Nights spent in her flat were filled with conversation that Harlan had typically reserved for only his closest friends; talks of his family, his shortcomings, and even a few of his fears, had left him more vulnerable than he ever cared to be.

The high of the exposure was short lived, of course, as most things in his life where. One particular night, when Harlan returned from practice, he found various postings from the social section of the Prophet plastered to his Captain's quarters, detailing the many nights and photos of Honey with a mystery brunette later to be identified as William Dasher. The name was familiar to Harlan but he forgot it almost as soon as he saw the man's bespectacled, toothy grin. In a moment, he had jumped to a thousand conclusions; the first being that this was what Honey was looking for, and the second being that he would not let the injustice go forth unnoticed.

Harlan, too, had seen other women throughout the weeks that they had been together, and they were by no means exclusive, but he couldn't fight the feeling that her situation was vastly different to his own. She was consistently seeing someone else. He wondered if the Dasher fellow had divulged his inner thoughts to her as well. When he learned of Liam's birthday, of which Honey had been invited, Harlan knew exactly how he would dole out his revenge.

Ana Luiza Souza, a Brazlian model who had only recently broken into the European market, would be the perfect distraction for the night. It couldn't hurt, of course, that there was no way that Honey wouldn't notice her. At just about six foot, fifty percent legs and clad in a small black dress, there wasn't a chance that anyone would miss her, to be honest.

Just as Harlan relaxed, a familiar hue of red hair crept under the heads of the crowd of people. Harlan paused his sentence, making sure this wasn't another false alarm before he casually draped an arm over Ana's shoulders and leaned into her perpetual half-embrace. Honey's face spoke a thousand words but the man found that none of them were the words that he was looking for. There was no doubt she was surprised, disappointed even, but he realised it was far less gratifying than he had imagined the thousands of times before the night had commenced.

"Honey," He spoke up, prepared to introduce her to the group when she abruptly looked for her exit. This had certainly not gone in his favour. "I'll take you," He suggested, excusing himself from the group and leading her away. "You didn't even take credit for the dessert," Harlan commented nonchalantly, his hand now resting on the small of her back, his free one pointing to the corner of the room where their destination was. "Very unlike you," He spoke into her ear from behind and cut through the noise of the crowd. "No Mr. Dasher tonight?" The blond wasted no time in getting to the point of the entire charade. If there was something that Harlan Bellamy was, it was certainly not diplomatic.

She wasn’t expecting Harlan to be the one to show her away and she certainly didn’t want him to be. Honey nearly excused herself from her excuse in an effort to not talk to him at all, but the much more immature part of her won out, ready to confront him and figure out just what he was playing at. She let him lead her away, thankfully leaving his arm candy (though she hated to misrepresent candy here) behind. “Wow, thank you,” she offered, her words dripping in faked sincerity.

Almost as soon as she felt his hand on her, she reached behind her to pluck it off casually, bristling at his words. As if there could be any doubt as to who made the dessert. Just how many world famous magical choclatiers were in the room? She was doing her best to look like she was focused on where he was pointing, and bringing up her work wasn’t going to help her maintain that.

Harlan was getting awfully close for a man who was apparently here with someone that was most decidedly not her. So when Honey stopped in her tracks suddenly and turned around at the mention of Will, they nearly collided. She refrained from taking a step back, her eyes searching his face for any hint as to just what, exactly, he was thinking. But as usual, his expression gave nothing away.

She didn’t dwell on how he knew about Will in the first place; that wasn’t really important at this point. But did he want her to deny it? Never had the words ‘don’t see anyone else’ come out of his mouth in any form that would have given her any sort of idea that was how he felt. And never had she made any sort of offer like that, fully expecting him to see other women. There was no way she was at fault here. Again she reminded herself that of course she didn’t bring Mr. Dasher tonight. Had he been expecting that? Was that what he was hoping for?

No, this was different. He had never seemed like the jealous type, so smooth and collected, not willing to waste his time on people or things. But yet, there it was. Never mind that if he had just asked about it nicely like a normal person, she would have been honest with everything. Might have even enjoyed telling him about her time spent with another man. But no. The time for handling this situation like a grown up was far, far gone.

“Oh no, he was much too tired after this afternoon’s activities.” Honey shrugged, not taking her eyes off of Harlan’s. She didn’t give him any time to respond before adding, “I hope you give the escort service good reviews though, she really is stunning.” Her gaze flicked back to the woman he had left behind, who was now having a very close conversation with another mate in the group.

Her hand gripped his upper arm as she leaned in, her lips nearly grazing his ear. “Care to let me know what you’re trying to accomplish here?”

Caught up in his own thoughts as they manifested across hardened features and furrowed brow, Harlan didn't realise that Honey had turned to face him until his body had slammed against her in the midst of the quietly growing crowd. He quickly straightened up and took a half of a step backward. Risk of the derailment of his argument by way of being too close to her was entirely too plausible. Honey, not unlike many women he knew, had a sort of magic in that arena.

Although she was visibly caught off guard by his comment, she was not stunned enough to falter on the rebuttal. Figures. He thought to himself with a shake of the head. In every hypothetical scenario that Harlan had worked through before the party, each with the common goal of making his displeasure known, the end result had been far more satisfying. Sure, the initial reaction was nice, but the high was short lived. Not even the redhead's attempt to insult his date had phased him in his stupor as he tried to work out just where things had gone awry.

Grey eyes flashed to the aim of Honey's venom, catching a glimpse of the model and a few of his teammates before turning back to his own conversation nonchalantly. In all fairness, he had left his date to her own devices without so much as a warning so he couldn't blame her for making the best of it. Harlan and Luiza had a long history, one that he was sure would not come close to being tarnished by the evening's events.

Before he could open his mouth to agree with Honey, a hand on his arm and lips against his ear had taken precedent. For half of a second, he paused. That damn magic again. Harlan was all too aware of that particular brand of sorcery. He shrugged her off and put distance between their bodies again. "Not a thing," He replied casually. The charade was more of an affirmation for himself, proving his theory that nothing good came from opening up too much to someone. He simply wanted to ensure that Honey knew that whatever dynamic they had once had was no more.

"You've got what you were after," He commented with an ease that was nearing a frighteningly calm. "...name splashed across The Prophet," Harlan continued with a faint smile. Deep down he hoped it wasn't the case with Honey but Harlan was fighting against years of women attaching themselves to his name for their own personal gain. It didn't help, of course, that his team (and the press alike) had pointed out that very assumption.

"Toilet's just there," Harlan gestured over her shoulder to the corridor leading to restroom, not bothering to wait on a response before he scanned the room for the nearest bar. All he knew now was that he needed one hell of a drink and as much space between he and Honey as possible.

He was being so damn casual about everything and it was infuriating. He was a quick learner, knowing how to get under her skin with just three words and a shrug of his shoulder. But if he wasn’t trying to make a scene, then just what was he after? But his next words made it perfectly clear just where the situation was headed. While she had never really dated anyone with such a presence in the press — the few quidditch players she had dated previously had yet to be even mildly famous — she should have known this was coming.

“Oh, bullshit, Harlan.” She said his name harshly, not matching the calm tone he had somehow chosen to use. “I own Honeydukes. I damn well never needed or wanted you to make a name for myself.” She straightened up as she said this, her pride swelling as she mentioned her shop. She hoped he knew that Honeydukes was also the only place to sell Glacial Snowflakes, his sweet of choice when he attempted to burgle her a couple months ago. But that was beside the point. Never, at any point in all of this, was she using him for anything other than physical reasons.

He was the one that had shared intimate details about himself. He was the one who had apparently snooped on the rest of her personal life, never once actually confronting her about it, never saying that he didn’t like it, only being so hard headed to bring it up now. And for what? To try and embarrass her? Make her feel bad about it? For doing something he had never asked her not to? Bullshit. If she had a drink in her hand, she wouldn’t hesitate to throw it straight in his face.

She nodded as he pointed behind her, the past two minutes of heightened conversation nearly making her forget that she had asked for directions in the first place. “Right,” she said after a pause, watching him for a few seconds with a narrowed gaze, trying to decide if this was worth any additional effort to get him to talk about this rationally. It took her even less time to decide that no, it wasn’t worth it in the slightest bit.

Getting in one last look as his back was turned to her, Honey Bea slipped back into the crowd, making her way not to the toilet, but to the exit.