[oxfordshire] daydream in blue. [tag; harlan]

Erika was gone with a little pop and Harlan was left on his own with the sound of the party lingering in his ears. He laughed to himself at the ludicrousy of it all, (what he had gotten himself into?) and ran a hand over his mouth. That fucking woman.

It didn't take long to get to the aforementioned lake, uninhabited, of course. The noise from the house was distant but it played over the water that his blue eyes scanned, dancing on the little caps of waves that met the shore. Harlan shielded his gaze from the setting sun. It was nice to take the time to enjoy a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

"Took you long enough..." He chastised, looking over his shoulder as Erika reappeared with loot in hand. "I saved you a drink—" He held up the full glass to counter her offer that was far more enticing in hindsight. Harlan dipped a chip into curry sauce with one hand, the other holding him upright in the Summer grass that he leaned back against. "You need to have better sex," He teased with a smirk, the miniature fork propped in his mouth, eyes turned to the sky after looking at her.

"Ah, we've got some time," Harlan thought so, at least. They would be expecting him to make some kind of speech over dinner, but that was a long time off. "What, you're not sticking around?" He was half-joking but was also curious as to what her intentions for the night were

"Rude," she snorted as she brought back her bounty, shuffling around to settle. "I got distracted," she admitted with a sunny smile. "The village is really nice. Very manicured," she added with a nod, not sounding too impressed. The gardens were beautiful, genuinely, but there wasn't much room for wildlife. "Oooh marvellous," she said gamely as she took the drink and sipped before she snorted.

"Well isn't that the truth," she agreed, grimacing in a humorous way. Harlan looked away and she glanced at his profile, chewing her food absently. Erika didn't think she was struggling per say, but her recent conquests hadn't been particularly memorable. "Are you offering?" The words came out before she could stop them and she winced. She'd been walking a fine line all evening but she might have just fallen over it. She cleared her throat and wished the ground was swallow her up whole. "Or, you know, if you have any tips," she replied as she scratched her nose and hoped he hadn't heard.

"Well I've got food, I can't ditch now," she joked with a grin before she sighed, distracted by the fluffy and slow moving clouds above. "But no, no plans," she added as though that was important. "I do kind of want to hear your speech, though," she grinned as she speared another chip.

"Hmm," Harlan hummed, not convinced by Erika's appraisal of the small, but uppity, village where the estate was tucked away behind. This, he imagined, couldn't have been farther from her scene. It felt like a different world, a lot like the one in which he had grown up in. Over the years he'd become so accustomed to living in London, traveling mostly major city to city. He was reminded that at one point, he'd imagined that he'd end up in a small town, not unlike the one they were in.

Letting out a genuine laugh that reverberated off the water, Harlan met Erika's eye, never quite sure how to tell if she was being serious or not. With the Trickett, it wasn't easy. One minute she was making some crass joke, and the next they were in some deep philosophical conversation. His laugh gave way to a grin and he grabbed another chip with the little wooden fork that his hand effectively swallowed. He paused before dipping into the curry sauce.

"You know, I'm choosing not to take offense to that..." The truth part. He pushed his tongue along the side of his mouth in thought, watching her, assuming that she could pick up what he meant. That had been years ago, of course. "I believe the bad sex threshold is what... two years?" Blue eyes flicked upward in thought, trying to remember how long it had been as if they were talking about something as casual as getting a coffee.

"Who said I was giving a speech? "Harlan pulled a face. He was, but that was beside the point. "You'd be right to get out of here before the monotony of the dinner party portion of the evening commences," He explained, leaning back on his free palm, his fingers moving idly in the soft grass.

Erika didn't have the decency to blush but she did smile. "You shouldn't," she agreed with him, wiggling her toes in the water as she watched the clouds drift overhead. It was a lovely place and she could only imagine how romantic it would be in winter when it was covered in a blanket of snow. Her eyes widened briefly as Harlan reminded her of the timeframe of their past rendezvous.

"Has it really been two years?" Erika asked in mild surprise before she laughed. "Bad sex threshold," she snorted with a shake of her head. Not everyone after him had been bad, they just hadn't been memorable, which probably wasn't great either. She sighed softly and without thought. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he was dating anyone but he was an international Quidditch star - there had to be someone involved somewhere.

"I feel a bit sorry for you, though," Erika announced, looking straight ahead. "You must get mobbed everywhere you go," she joked. "It's not your fault you have a jaw that'd cut glass," she admitted with a smile, not so much toeing the line any more as ignoring it completely.

"Ah," Erika stated, tapping the side of her nose before she laughed. "The guests, they talk," she explained, her eyes widening in mock fright before she snorted. "Lots of whispers," she told Harlan. "I passed a lady who said it was going to be the highlight of her evening," she stated, wiggling her eyebrows before she shrugged again.

"Free food? Count me in," she joked but he had a point. Much like Harlan, she didn't particularly like fussy food in a fussy atmosphere. But she also didn't have much experience with it. Dinner growing up in her family had been a wild and large affair, full of people and barbecue based. No matter how cute she looked, eating a corn on the cob with a knife and fork was dumb and impractical.

"I might take a tour of the house, then," Erika settled on as she pulled her feet out of the lake and slipped her shoes back on, tucking her golden blonde hair behind her ears before snatching another golden brown chip. "See if there's any soap I can rob," she joked - sort of. "Are you coming?" She asked, rubbing her hands together as she stood, brushing them against her thighs as she nodded in the direction of the house. "I told you. I still want my champagne bath." She grinned as she began her walk towards it.

"Hardly," Harlan was thankful for the distraction that was food so that he didn't have to elaborate any further on any instances of being mobbed, as Erika put it. She wasn't all wrong though, there seemed to be a market of women who willingly flung themselves at him— more because of the Quidditch fame, he imagined, than his jawline.

Blue eyes watched belatedly as she stood up from the grass with ease and he followed suit, a little less gracefully, vanishing the emptied tray of chips in the process. The idea of going back into the house didn't exactly appeal to him now that he'd had a taste of freedom but he found himself following the path up the grassy knoll. "Might need a few bottles for that..." He commented to the sky.

Inside the manor, it was cool, thankfully, and grew quieter the more they made their way through the halls. There were a few other guests milling about, pretending to enjoy the artwork but in reality, likely looking for something that they could gossip about to their friends once they left. Walking along the soft, pristine red carpet, he looked up to the ornate gold ceiling in quiet appreciation. It was magnificent.

"Could do with a bit of work, couldn't it?" Harlan teased with a shake of his head.

"I'm sure you could spare some," came the cheerful response as she drew closer to the door, careful to keep a polite distance away from Harlan for obvious reasons. It was cool inside and it smelled nice, like oil paints and old books and a hint of garlic, comforting. He had said there would be Mediterranean food on the menu.

With wide eyes, she looked over at Harlan in disbelief. "No!" Erika laughed, her hands in her pockets. "It's romantic," she insisted. "Okay, so, maybe it's a teeny bit dated," she admitted, tilting her head back as she admired the ceiling and the rows upon rows of portraits and paintings. "It's romantic," she settled on with a nod of her head. "Like a little time bubble. You don't get buildings like these any more," she reminded him gently.

She began to climb the stairs, her pale fingers gripping the staircase lightly as she ascended. Erika hadn't seen any signs forbidding guests from going upstairs but then again, she wasn't technically a guest. There was a large window that overlooked the grounds and she peered out of it before reaching a long hallway.

"It's a bit dark," she finally admitted to Harlan in a whisper. There were lots of dark carpets and dark wallpaper and dark furniture, splashes of jewel tones and gold. It wasn't really her style and he knew how much it pained her to admit that he was right. This place was definitely haunted and she took a quick, instinctive step backwards and towards him.

"Do you get the feeling like you're being watched?" She whispered to him, nodding at the portrait of a heavyset man with dark, judgemental eyes that seemed to follow her around the room. "I take it back," she finally confessed. "It's not romantic and it smells like mothballs."

Harlan watched curiously as Erika teetered on either end of her opinion of the place— it was like getting to look inside her brain as thoughts came to her, in real-time. His blue eyes that had darkened under the cover of being inside followed her gaze down the corridor.

"Suppose that's the idea," He said thoughtfully as he studied what he imagined to be a baroque style painting to their left that covered floor to ceiling. It really was something, the history of it all, of the place, it felt like they were taking a step back in time. He was almost so distracted by it all that he missed Erika's next comment. Being watched? Immediately, he cast a glance over his shoulder for preying eyes. The Daily Fucking Prophet.

Oh, that kind of being watched.

Letting out a breath of relief, Harlan half-smiled, studying the portrait that she had indicated toward, pulling a face. "About the bathtub, anyway..." He wrapped an arm over her shoulders casually, giving the man in the portrait one last look before going on their way.

fin