don’t lie, don’t tell the truth [harlan]

mid august 2003

Honey glanced at the clock, wiping her hands on her apron before tugging at the strings to untie it; she lifted it over her head, not bothering with pushing her hair back out of her face before she stacked the two boxes, one on the other. There was a cake in one, sugar spun flowers in the other. She wouldn’t normally take such a small cake on delivery -- that was usually reserved for multi-tiered things -- but Honey was a good friend (and Audrey was paying her extra).

She’d made Audrey’s wedding cake -- a seven tier monstrosity -- two years ago and Honey had recreated the top-most layer for her anniversary last year so they didn’t have to eat year-old cake (because who in their right mind came up with that tradition?) and it must have gone over well because she had just recreated the second tier for Year Two. It was a near perfect replica, strawberry and champagne chiffon, white chocolate buttercream frosting, gold drizzle, flowers that matched the bouquet.

And it wasn’t weird that Audrey was Harlan’s sister. (It was weird but Honey had decided to just not think about it). They had become friends, had stayed friends, independent from (and despite Honey’s lack of) Harlan, and she had agreed to make the cake before everything had happened -- Audrey planned everything months in advance -- so.. not weird.

She was going to be late, though. She had planned to change, at least -- having a drink with Audrey usually warranted some effort beyond jeans and a t-shirt -- but she gave up on that idea in favor of being on time; Audrey was almost always busy; she didn’t want to have to tiptoe around if she put it off and showed up during the baby’s naptime. Honey steadied the boxes in her hand, one under the bottom box, the other on the top, and headed upstairs, pushing open the door to her flat with her backside. She only took a hand off the boxes to throw some floo powder in the fireplace -- it was better for the cake if she didn’t apparate -- and with both hands securely back in place, she stepped in, stepping out of Audrey’s fireplace.

“Audrey--” She wasn’t too loud but she didn’t want her mate to think she was sneaking around. “Audrey,” she said again, rounding the corner to the kitchen -- that was where they usually started their wine so she knew exactly how to get there -- and finding what could only be the wrong Bellamy.

He had his back to her, rummaging in the pantry, but she would have recognized him anywhere (which was not so much a feat in his sister’s kitchen, but still). “Shit,” she said, much less the calm-and-collected vibe she thought she’d be going for whenever she saw him again. She hadn’t seen him in over a month be she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about he hadn’t stayed when she had asked, just to get caught up in thinking about how it shouldn’t have been bothering her so much.

“Hi.” She said, clearing her throat when he turned around. “I’m just--” She stepped the rest of the way into the kitchen and set the boxes gingerly on the large island separating them. “I’m looking for Audrey.” She glanced to the side, just making sure she had gone to the right kitchen in the first place, hadn’t mixed up her Bellamys, but she was in the right place and she fixed her gaze on him again. “Obviously,” she amended. She was obviously looking for his sister.

@Harlan Bellamy

Harlan strode through the empty corridors of his sister’s home, his hand ran over one of the marble columns that opened up into one of the sitting areas, ceiling-high, early afternoon sun filtering in and drenching everything.

He studied the family photos along the wall in a strangely sentimental silence. They were a welcomed respite from all of the artwork, perfectly lined up like a museum. Most of the portraits were of her family, Audrey and her husband, that poor bastard, looking like her lap dog in most. As he walked by he could see the years of their relationship in chronological order— then Valerie. His mouth twitched up into a smile when he reached the portrait.

This whole being an uncle thing was a lot more complicated when he actually liked one.

It was uncomfortable to be in their home without them. They had run out the markets and while he capitalized on having some alone time, he felt cautious, like he might break something. When he'd agreed to spend the weekend, he’d done so out of desperation, in need of something to keep busy while quidditch was out. After all the years, he never quite learned how to just enjoy the downtime.

Making his way into the kitchen, Harlan ran a hand over his chest and scanned the pantry for what to make for lunch. Everything, in true Audrey form, was organized and labeled. At the sound of a voice, he turned on his heels, surprised to see Honey, of all people. He tried to remember at any point Audrey mentioning this, but couldn’t even manage a coherent thought. He glanced down at himself, suddenly aware of his state, joggers, no shirt, facial hair grown out.

“Obviously,” He repeated, voice still sleepy despite the time of day. He stepped to the island in the middle of the kitchen that separated them and eyes dropped to the boxes in her arms. “Special delivery?” He nodded at them. He knew Honey rarely if ever, made those in person.

Honey kept her gaze above board, not letting it trail down past his chin. She knew herself, knew it took next to nothing -- not that it was nothing, here -- to distract her. Of course, when he glanced down at himself, she couldn’t help but do the same, put off for another few seconds wondering why he was there at all.

She nodded again, unnecessarily. Obviously. She glanced down when he did -- to the boxes, this time -- and looked back up at his question. “Yeah.” She drummed her fingers on the counter for a second. “Audrey--” again reiterating that she was there to see his sister, not him-- “It’s for her anniversary.” She unstacked the boxes and nudged the larger of the two toward him, though not enough to put it within arm’s reach.

“Is she--” She stopped herself, knowing well enough that if Audrey was in the house she would have made herself known by now. “You can let her know I was here?” She assumed he could do that much, at least; she turned to leave, congratulating herself for not turning this into more of a thing, especially after what had happened last time. She should have been more grateful that he hadn’t come up after taking her home, could recognize now that it had been a bad idea, but there didn’t need to be any more moments of honesty between them.

Except-- Honey paused, turned back and reentered the kitchen. “I’ve got to do more work on the cake,” she said, ignoring the fact that she had (successfully) left and (begrudgingly) returned in the span of two seconds. She wasn’t about to admit that he had flustered her enough to forget that she hadn’t dropped off a complete cake. It was just final touches -- attaching the flowers, add a couple more charms -- but it was enough that she and Audrey had planned to have a glass of wine while she worked.

That wasn’t an option now, she realized, her eyes flicking back over Harlan’s torso before she pulled the boxes back toward her. “I’ll be quick.”

"Right, of course," Harlan agreed, as though it wasn't already going to the first question out of his mouth when his sister arrived— why she hadn't thought to mention that she had invited his ex to drop by without warning. Then he could have at least put a shirt on, shaved, something. And he knew she hadn't simply forgotten, either, Audrey was not at all the type.

They were friends, Honey and Audrey. Had been, vaguely, from school, but seemed to have (much to his dismay) gotten closer because of him. It was no secret that Honey had a way with drawing out the wild side of people and maybe that was just what Audrey was looking for despite all of her buttoned-up formality. Harlan was all too aware of how the way that she was was in her younger years, a fay cry from the person she was currently.

Harlan watched with an amused smile as Honey turned back. At first, he assumed she must have forgotten something. But then she said she had to finish up.

"Well, I hope my sister has tipped you well..." His eyebrow quirked. He wasn't sure yet if this was the outcome he wanted of the two, Honey leaving or sticking around a bit longer. The last time they had seen each other lingered somewhere overhead, but Harlan ignored the thought with practiced precision.  "Do you want me to—" Harlan pushed himself off from leaning back against the counter. Leave? Help? Neither of those he was drawn to, so he didn't finish the question.

"Want anything?" He asked instead, flicking open the fridge with his wand and getting a closer look at the contents. "Water, green juice, one of Erick's very rare imported beers?" He used the term liberally, showing just what he thought of the man's penchant for the fancy beer that had things like pomegranate and grapefruit in the name.

Honey pressed her lips together, holding herself back from making some sort of tip joke or concluding that Harlan must have been left as gratuity. She had replaced whatever sort of flirtatious instinct she had with remembering the finer details of their situation: their breakup, their somewhat civil conversation a month later, the nothing that had followed, her newfound inability to talk to him without thinking about the first three things.

“No.” He hadn’t finished his question but she answered him all the same, figuring he was offering to leave. She should have wanted him to -- give herself no reason to stall for time, or linger once her work was done in ten minutes -- but there was no reason she shouldn’t be able to handle being in the same room as him. They had settled on it being better for them if they didn’t try to make this into more than it really was; they hadn’t decided that together but they’d both arrived at the same conclusion, him when he declined to go upstairs with her, her in the weeks since when she decided that wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about. It was just Harlan.

Plus, it helped that it was some neutral third location, not her kitchen, or his.

Harlan didn’t completely turn to look inside the fridge; Honey’s gaze slid over him, regardless, before she looked down at the boxes again, opening one after the other. She made a face at green juice. could practically hear Audrey telling her you can’t even taste the kale; she relaxed her face, decided on, “Water?” without looking up. Water, before he could suggest something else she’d actually want to drink.

Audrey was meant to provide something to put the cake on, but seeing as she wasn’t there Honey glanced up, gaze flicking from cabinet to cabinet, biting her lip as she tried to decide where to start looking. She settled on the closest one to her, checked another couple high cabinets with no luck before she looked in a low cabinet, kneeling down after thinking better about just bending over.

“So are you--” Honey directed her question into the next cabinet, her head poked in as she stretched to grab the cake stand she had just found. She stood up, holding some gaudy crystal thing -- not what she would have selected for herself but she wasn’t the one celebrating an anniversary -- in her hands. She looked at Harlan (with her gaze held eye-level) and re-thought her question, getting too many vibes of morning-Harlan this late in the day; “Were you napping?” it was easier than directly asking why he was here, anyway.

"Water, then," He repeated, grabbing two crystal glasses and filling them carefully just below the rim, one for himself.

Shuffling Honey's across the island counter, Harlan tried his best not to watch as she made her way around the kitchen but found himself sneaking a glance. He would have offered to help if he knew what it was that she was looking for, or if he knew where anything was stored. His gazed followed as she knelt to the ground— Merlin if that wasn't worse than just bending over.

Harlan ran a hand over his mouth to stop from saying something— whatever inevitable noise he might make— and instead looked to the window. Behind the sink, the floor to ceiling number was letting in the afternoon sun, exposing the lush gardens of their lawn. Time, it seemed, moved differently at the Beauchamp's than at his. 'No— Harlan let out a laugh. "When have I ever napped?" He eyed he cake tray, or whatever it was, as skeptically as his own words.

"I've been told I might need to relax a bit," He lessened his grip on the counter when mentioning it aloud, stopping short of using air quotes. "So here I am..." He raised an eyebrow, pausing, figuring he might as well explain it all before she assumed that he'd moved in with them. "I've been recruited to watch Valerie tonight," He explained, sitting back against the opposite counter, palms behind him. "Tough work, you know?" He had to change twice that morning, alone, because she spat up on him.

The joys of parenthood, or so he thought.

Honey shrugged, unable (or unwilling) to think of any nap scenarios. She followed his gaze to her hands — or, more likely, the cake stand she was holding — and shrugged again; at least the cake would look good on it. She set it on the counter and almost immediately regretted it; she needed to keep her hands busy.

He went on to explain himself and Honey nodded, glancing down at her work instead of down at him. She thought a bit might have been a wee understatement; she smirked softly as she looked back up at him. “Here you are,” she confirmed, not bothering to point out that that didn’t really explain anything, still a little annoyed that he was there at all. But she just needed to finish her work and she could go before she could let herself think about lingering for any number of reasons she could come up with to convince herself it wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“Ah.” Valerie. Audrey’s daughter was cute, though maybe a little less cute now that she was too big for Honey to cradle her in one arm. That probably wasn’t a problem for Harlan, yet; Honey dropped her gaze to his arms (and his biceps in particular) for a second — it didn’t help that he repositioned himself at the same time — before he spoke again and she brought her gaze back up with a laugh. “Harder than your day job?”

She pulled the cake toward her and lifted it out of the box with her wand, setting it on the cake stand with a light touch. “You’d think that Audrey could have asked you sooner.” She set her wand down and glanced over at him. “If you’re supposed to be relaxing.” She had owled Audrey a couple days ago to figure out the best time to drop the cake by; maybe she should make sure Audrey was feeling alright if she was forgetting her schedule this easily. She pulled the flowers out of the other box to set them on the cake one by one.

He contemplated the question for a moment, though his answer was already clear. Minding his niece was nothing like his day job. Could it be considered that, what he did for a living, a day job? He sure as hell hoped not. Harlan brushed aside the thought and instead worked through his thoughts prior.

"It's not all that bad," The wizard admitted with a grin that he tried, and failed, to suppress. While playing nanny wasn't what he ever thought would be his idea of relaxing, in some strange way it was just that. Watching Valerie see new things for the time, the way her curious brown eyes canvassed everything, the way she reluctantly tried to stay awake for as long as possible— it was. He knew it, and apparently so did Audrey if it had been her idea of helping him to loosen up a bit.

Harlan watched distractedly as Honey worked. It was a familiar scene, her slender hand wrapped around her wand and directing the cake effortlessly. She had a precision to her craft that, up until then, he wasn't sure that he had appreciated fully when they were together, at least outwardly. "Looks nice," Despite himself, he sounded sarcastic, so he added in a nod that he hoped would convey some sense of seriousness.

"She asked me weeks ago," He said, wondering how much of this his sister had orchestrated. He had his assumptions. Audrey was too calculated to not have planned the whole thing. "Though she didn't mention you would be dropping by," He hid his smirk behind his glass. He hadn't meant it unkindly, but it was a surprise to see her, here, of all places. To say the least.

Honey smiled as she glanced over, caught Harlan’s grin. He was downplaying it -- it’s not all that bad -- and she knew it, but she was going to let him have this one. Audrey deserved some credit if it had been her idea, helping Harlan unwind from all the stress with a bit of babysitting. She didn’t say anything else, eyes already back on her work, knew she needed to be done and out of there before she could convince herself otherwise.

She fastened the flowers to the cake, set a few more charms so they’d ‘bloom’ a little more as the evening progressed, added just a bit more shimmer to the already shimmering glaze-- Harlan paid her (the cake) a compliment and Honey looked up, almost surprised. “Thanks.” It was a quiet response, but she meant it all the same.

“Oh.” She set her wand down and looked at him properly; Audrey had asked him weeks ago, had told her exactly when to drop by, hadn’t bothered mentioning it to him. “Well, that makes sense.” She almost laughed, surprised Audrey hadn’t gone to more trouble to see that the clandestine run-in actually happen; she doubted even Audrey could have planned for Harlan needing a drink at the exact moment Honey would be in the kitchen. But then again, Honey didn’t want Harlan to think she actually thought Audrey had planned any of this. “Forgetful, Audrey.” She smirked, looked back down at the cake one more time; she was all done here.

Honey cleaned up the boxes and tucked her wand away, looking from her untouched glass of water to Harlan. “I should get back.” She didn’t love leaving the shop unattended for too long. She smiled and met his eye for a second before she -- subtly, she thought -- slid her gaze over his torso. “Tell Audrey she can owl me if--” she gestured vaguely toward the cake before she turned and walked back out of the kitchen, back to the fireplace.

The note from Audrey arrived a couple hours later, telling her that plans for their anniversary party had changed last minute and she loved the cake and it was so last minute but could Honey please come back later in the evening for the party? She called it an ‘intimate gathering’ with their ‘closest friends’ but if Honey was part of that group she could only imagine how many other people must have been included; she could avoid Harlan if she needed to. She wrote back -- sure, see you then -- and went up a little early to shower, change, look presentable.

She grabbed a bottle of wine -- gifted to her first, surely -- on her way out but put it back the last second; chances were good it was the wrong kind of wine to bring and she had already brought the cake, anyway. As she stood in her fireplace (again) and said the address (again), Honey realized belatedly that she was wearing the same dress as the night of that quidditch event years ago, the one for charity, with the line for photos, her earning Harlan’s autograph-- she’d had it cleaned so there was no evidence of that drink being spilled on her; not that she thought Harlan would really remember what dress she’d been wearing that night, anyway.

There weren’t quite as many people at the party as Honey had imagined, but there were enough that it took Audrey a solid twenty minutes to introduce her to a few -- to help her network, probably -- before getting back to other hostess duties. It was easy to avoid Harlan, even if she hadn’t seen him yet.

She took a chance to grab some hors d’oeuvres from the little table set up along the side of the room -- a room she’d never been in before and frankly hadn’t known had existed until tonight -- holding her wine awkwardly as she put a couple tiny triangles of sandwich on a plate, silently scolding herself for not eating ahead of time. She stepped away and still awkwardly holding wine and plate, ate one of the sandwiches, regretting it immediately; it was some kind of vegetable nonsense. She weighed her options -- spit it into her napkin or -- Honey swallowed and washed it down with a gulp of wine, making another face because wine. Of course that’d be when she caught Harlan’s eye. Fashionably late, or something. She waved -- more of a half wave -- before she went back to look for replacement food.

Forgetful Audrey, not a shot in hell. His sister was a lot of things but forgetful was not one of them. "Indeed," Harlan agreed with a flick of his tongue over his bottom lip, biting down after almost into a wince. His expression did little to validate the words that had come out of his mouth, but they both already knew that.

In what felt like a flash, Honey was gone, walking out of the kitchen and leaving him, alone, to look after the all-too-grandiose cake. Why did they need all of that, again, for just an anniversary? Harlan was left feeling both high and a bit deflated by their latest 'chance' encounter. This time, though, he could really say that it was just that, chance. Giving the cake a final look, he grabbed an apple and made his way upstairs for a shower.

In true form, there was more to story. And he learned as much once the Beauchamps arrived home. There was going to be a party. Of-fucking-course. By then, he couldn't back out, he'd agreed to stay for the weekend. Besides, if even if he tried, his sister was one hell of a negotiator.

So there he was, shaved, showered, dressed, and fully prepared to be miserable. There were a few of their friends that he enjoyed but most were just as pretentious as the next. But then there was Honey. He let out a knowing laugh, rolling his eyes mid embrace of whoever had greeted him. He should have known Audrey was going to have something else up her sleeve.

"It's the cucumber ones you don't like," Harlan nodded to the forgone finger sandwich knowingly, though hoping to not coming across as condescending as he so often had when it came to them. "Nice dress," He commented quietly, politely kissing the side of her cheek, an arm wrapping over her shoulders in greeting whilst avoiding the eyes he could feel on his back. His fingers lingered on the fabric, briefly, before he took a step back, pulling a face as if to say classic Audrey.

Honey returned to the food; it was all varying levels of fancy and there were no desserts—that’s why she had picked a sandwich from the start, it had seemed the safest option—and she stood there nearly zoning out for a second because good parties had sausage rolls and— She looked up when she heard his voice, having a sip of wine to hide the small smile that said she was pleased he had remembered. “And they’re still disgusting.” She abandoned the search for food officially as she looked at Harlan properly, grateful he’d put a shirt on so she didn’t get needlessly distracted.

He complimented her dress as he pulled her to him and she took advantage of the second he couldn’t see her face to puzzle out if he was just saying that to be nice or if he actually recognized the dress—because she couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d done in (or out) of the dress once she had realized its significance—but in the end she settled on neither option, offering a just as quiet, “Thanks.” She might have leaned too much into the embrace, wrapping the arm not occupied with a wine glass around her back; the ‘might’ was probably an understatement if she was trying not to have a repeat of last time (or last last time if this afternoon was a separate entity).

She was thankful for the space between them when he took a step back and she decided to explain away her presence before he could think anything else of it. “I was definitely a last minute invite.” She angled herself so she wasn’t looking straight at him, one arm crossed and the other still holding the wine she didn’t want (or ask for). “I figured you’d be here, not like—“ Honey waved her glass in the vague direction of the kitchen— “Earlier.” She glanced sideways at him for half a second before she glanced back out at literally anything else.

“You get stood up or something?” She doubted it but she couldn’t help but hope there was a reason he was milling about alone. She had a little more thought about earlier in the afternoon; Audrey had been out, had known Harlan would be around, wasn’t at all forgetful (and annoyingly so). “Just assuming that’s why Audrey invited me at all.” At the very least she was aware that Honey had been avoiding Harlan with only marginal success. She smirked, let it linger for a beat before she had another (very small) sip of her wine.

Harlan's eyes, deep blue and more relaxed than usual, studied Honey with a curiosity that he only vaguely attempted to hide. It was unusual to see her so unsure, her arm wrapped around her back. He was probably just reading into it too much.

Shaking that thought, the wizard took a metered sip from the drink he'd made himself after sidestepping the staff who were offering whatever beverage that Audrey had designated for cocktail hour. There was a full bar outside, on the terrace overlooking their garden, but that was for after all of the formalities. He gave it an hour before her stuck up friends showed their true colors. Their depravity was just around the corner.

"Erm," Harlan coughed, hand to chest. "Surprisingly no," He explained with a quirk of his eyebrow, smile indicating that he hadn't taken offense to her assumption. It was Honey, after all. "I think she just likes to see me sweat," He bit down on his lower lip in half a wince, eyes rolling in the process. He would have liked to believe she wasn't so calculated to have orchestrated it, but then again...

"Well, here you are," He commented over his drink with an almost grin. "Why you agreed to this, I'm not so sure..." Harlan eyed the crowd skeptically before flicked over Honey again. He was familially obliged. Her, not so much. Then again saying no to Audrey wasn't really an option.

Honey raised an eyebrow, her best effort (least obvious) effort to keep her mind from wandering; it would have been easier if he had been expecting someone, she thought, if only to give her a reason to steer clear of him for the rest of the evening. She returned his smile—not because she was pleased he was alone but because it was the nice thing to do—and headed toward a bit more of a grin when he rolled his eyes.

She eyed his drink, almost asked to share—habit—because she didn’t care much for her own, remembered when he turned the question back on her that she had already decided it was for the best if she didn’t drink, anyway. “I heard there’d be cake.” She shrugged, glancing over to where she thought his sister was standing, glancing back to Harlan just as quick. “I dunno. We’re like… friends now.” She realized that might sound like she was talking about them— “Audrey and me,” she clarified.

She was close to asking if it—her and Audrey—bothered him but she figured he would say it didn’t, no matter what, and that wasn’t very satisfying.

“I didn’t think it’d be so stuffy, I guess.” She had another sip of her wine before she gave up and set the glass on the nearest surface, stepping back to Harlan after a couple seconds, her voice slightly quieter. “I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting instead, but—” The few occasions she’d spent any time with Audrey had been decidedly less boring, though those times they’d been more or less on their own, no mingling, no drinking a red to pretend like she knew a thing or two about wine.

Honey shrugged again. “She made it sound fun.” She hadn’t, not really, but there was a morbid curiosity that had lingered all afternoon after seeing Harlan so briefly. There wasn’t any more work she could do—prep for next weekend’s Highland Games—that wouldn’t have to be redone closer to Thursday so she had practically run out of distractions.

"So I've heard..." Harlan commented, not unkindly, with eyebrows raised. There had been a time when he hoped desperately that his sister would even tolerate a girlfriend, that would have been a step up from previous relationships. Except with Arya. Harlan tried to ignore the sinking feeling when he remembered how close they had been and focused instead on the lesser of the two that made him uncomfortable.

"Sounds like she had a good time at your birthday, anyway?" He couldn't help but smirk, gaze flicked over to her. According to his brother-in-law, though sworn to secrecy, she had spent the whole next day with her head in the toilet saying she must have the flu. Audrey would never fess up though, and Harlan would never ask.

"Give it an hour," Blue eyes scanned the room thoughtfully. There was never a singular moment when everyone was off their heads at parties like this, more of a gradual procession into debauchery. He planned on enjoying watching it unfold from a safe distance. "You do know it's her actual job to make things sound fun?" Harlan teased, referencing the swanky "lifestyle" publication she headed up.

He couldn't blame her for being convinced, though, Audrey seemed to always get what she wanted.

Right on cue, one of Simon's friends stumbled over and roughly clapped a hand to Harlan's back. How in the hell he was already wasted, Harlan couldn't be sure, and he felt the need to keep flexing his hand on his shoulder was beyond him. Harlan grimaced through the congratulations and took note of the way that he eyed Honey on his way out. He didn't reciprocate the wolfish grin he cast over his shoulder after, to him.

"Almost prefer the babysitting job, if I'm honest," He said under his breath, leaning over to her with a shake of his head. "Did you want something else?" He noticed her discard wine glass, still full, behind them, unsurprised.

Honey shrugged, returning the smirk she caught out the corner of her eye. She remembered less about the night of her birthday party the later it had gotten; she vaguely remembered midnight rolling around and Grace turning thirty and someone saying something about thirty shots; she thought she remembered Audrey having more than her fair share, like she’d never had some of those novelty shots— — that barely even tasted like alcohol. It had been a good night, anyway, and Honey had only thought about Harlan once or twice.

“Oh, right.” Honey laughed, remembering Audrey’s job. Surprisingly enough, they didn’t talk about work so much. “I think I can make it an hour,” she said with another shrug, looking at the still-forming crowd, gaze landing on one man in particular who seemed to take that as a reason to walk over to them and proceed to pay her exactly zero attention. He congratulated Harlan—the final had been literal months ago, but sure—and normally she would have echoed the sentiment, teasingly ask for an autograph, the whole lot. It wasn’t mayurity that stopped her feom doing it now, but something else altogether she couldn’t put her finger on.

She raised one eyebrow as the man left, only then deciding to give her a look; still, she let her gaze trail down to his left hand (just in case), clearing her throat as she glanced back to Harlan.

He leaned in and she held her breath but she let it out with a laugh. “Almost,” she said skeptically, willing to bet that he’d rather be anywhere else right then. He eyed her discarded drink and she shrugged; he hadn’t put the space back between them immediately and it was making her head a little fuzzy, like it always did. Annoyingly so. “I dunno, I was kind of trying to hold off—“ because of Harlan. “Can’t always count on you to take me home.” Never mind that she’d flooed there and she would floo home and that wasn’t the reason she was avoiding it at all.

“But I guess if I’ve got to kill an hour before this gets fun..” She trailed off and smirked, ignoring the instinct telling her to go find someone—anyone—else to talk to. “Where’d you get yours?” She tilted her head toward his glass; she’d only seen wine glasses making the circuit around the room. “Is there gin?”