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

Harlan offered a shake of his head but stopped short of correcting her— he was fairly certain there were a few people there who would be more than willing to apparate her home, his brother's rubber necked friend first on the list. The lingering jealousy, that he had no right to feel, swirling around his chest was not lost on him.

"What, you and Audrey aren't having slumber parties yet?" He joked with a laugh before nodding to the entryway that opened up into an even higher ceilinged corridor. "Of course there's gin," His eyes narrowed through a smile. Harlan was almost offended at the notion when he remembered it wasn't his house to be offended on behalf of.

"Think she's trying to control the intake..." Instinctively he touched a hand to Honey's back to let her lead the way out to where he'd gestured toward. Of course, there was the bar outside but he knew better than to open that up before the strict timeline that his sister had enforced. "There's a bar in the study," What was it with his family and drinking in libraries?

The sound of the crowd slipped away as they made their way in comfortable quiet down the marble-clad hallway. The double doors were open, the fireplace lit (for ambiance he imagined Audrey would explain, no matter that it was summer). There was no detail that she hadn't accounted for. "Just gin?" Harlan ran his hand over the top of one of the crystal decanters. He knew were a variety of tonics and sparkling something or others tucked away in the hidden cabinets below.

"Don't—" He paused, letting out a groan when he noticed Honey getting dangerously close to some old family portraits on the wall. Telling her not to do something was one way to assure that she most certainly would.

Honey raised an eyebrow. Slumber parties. “I tried but—“ she relaxed her face and shrugged one shoulder— “Stephen didn’t seem too keen on the idea.” She was fully implying that any slumber party would involve Audrey’s husband. (Never mind that Audrey had never once crossed her mind, let alone her husband, or maybe it had once but she was trying to cut down on her number of friend’s siblings or sibling’s friends.)

But there was gin. “Good.” She liked gin, liked Harlan on gin, liked forgetting that just a few minutes ago she had decided that staying sober was the best idea. He gestured in a direction away from the crowd and Honey cast a brief glance around the room—no one seemed too interested in them—before she turned. A second later she felt the familiar sensation of his hand on her, though it was higher than she was used to; she didn’t want to read into it but it was hard not to think about it being purposeful. She shouldn’t have wanted it to be any different, she reminded herself after a couple more seconds.

The hallway was quiet save the sound of her shoes but she didn’t feel the need to say anything to break the silence. It was familiar, almost.

Honey peeled away from Harlan as they entered the room at the end of the hall, letting herself play the snooping tourist for a beat. There was an uncomfortable looking desk and plenty of books—why did everyone own so many books?—and nothing that really jumped out at her.

She turned back to Harlan at his question, a soft smirk on her lips; if things had been different, if they had been different, it’d be an easy answer. But things were the way they were and any gin was probably a bad idea, never mind just a little less. “Soda, too.” She was close to saying that she didn’t have anyone to mind her, which she needed if she was going straight for the gin, which would just be her saying that he could mind her without actually having to say it— “I don’t want to be the only one having fun.” Until everyone else found the bar in an hour or so, apparently.

He’d made her enough drinks that she didn’t think she needed to walk him through making this one; she turned back to her slow circuit of the room, trying to be as sneaky as possible about putting a little space between them.

Don’t— Honey’s gaze was already on the small framed photos—Valerie, all of them—and she slid it farther past the shelves and to the wall, to the bigger family portraits, Bellamys throughout the years. “Don’t think anything could be worse than that one at your parents’,” she said, smirking though her back was to him. He knew the one she was talking about, too, thirteen- or fourteen-year-old Harlan, that awkward in-between age. Never mind that she had her own family photos around her flat, or that the Flumes were traditionally late bloomers (though some were later than others), or that there was a nice mix-in of muggle photos from her grandparents’ farm rather than these formally posed and moving family portraits.

There was another photo of the family a few years later and she looked at it for a couple of seconds—again she decided that she would have had a minor crush on him had she really known he existed—before she turned back around and gave him an involuntary once over. “Thanks for risking a scandal just to get me a drink.” She took the glass from him, careful to let her fingers brush his as she did and regretting it almost immediately. She had a large sip to distract herself.

With practice, Harlan swiftly made use of his wand to get the soda water from behind the bar. He let just the right amount filter over the sphere of ice in the middle of the glass, intermingling with the gin. His own drink that he had been nursing had a bit of life in yet, so it was just the one to be made.

"I'd hoped you would have forgotten that by now..." He let out a sigh as he ventured to where Honey was standing and facing the wall of portraits. Seeing them all in place made his family look so stiff, formal. They were, he supposed, both of those things. Sometimes it felt like he was looking at a group of strangers even as they moved around.

Harlan half sat on the arm of a maroon velvet chair, turned to face Honey. A scandal. He let out a laugh. "Ah, can't get much worse," He teased, mirroring her and taking a drink of his own. "Doubt they'll even notice we're gone," Harlan leaned back against the side of the chair and crossed his leg over the other casually. Despite the underlying hint of something, it was nice to just talk to Honey again.

"Maybe we can hide in here all night..." He thought out loud, uncharacteristically dreamily as his blue eyes studied a portrait of his younger self with interest. He had to have been about seventeen. He remembered the day, too— he'd asked if his father's girlfriend would be joining. He took another drink, looking back to Honey again.

“Doubt I ever will.” She continued smirking, back still to him.

She considered him for a few seconds, nodding after a sip of her drink, shrugging one shoulder. Honey reckoned it could get worse; she’d finally gotten to a point where she wasn’t actively avoiding the paper for fear of seeing his name alongside some woman’s—that habit had carried over after the breakup—though now she was just avoiding it out of sheer annoyance (or something like that). She had another drink.

“Let’s hope.” Harlan leaned back and Honey crossed one arm across her, holding her other upper arm in a light grip. She didn’t know anyone there save for Harlan and Audrey, and to a lesser extent Stephen, and those last two seemed to have their hands full. Normally she wouldn’t mind mingling and meeting new people and being a general catch but her present company was a good distraction from all of that.

Honey raised an eyebrow at his suggestion they hide away all night; she glanced toward the wide open doors to the study as if there was some other underlying they should avoid the party besides sheer boredom; she glanced back at him when she remembered that was over. He had effectively ended it, multiple times now. She hated that she had fallen behind, in that regard, much more accustomed to being the one ending things.

She caught his eye and offered a soft smirk—it was easier than repeating all the reasons to herself why they should probably be among other people—before she matched his sip with one of her own. “Maybe we could,” she said after a few more seconds of familiar silence.

“Does this mean you’re not on babysitting duty tonight?” She meant the party in general, not just this this. Not that she had any other plans in mind—she’d already established she wouldn’t need help from him getting home. She looked down at her glass—and the ridiculous ice ball—before she had another drink. “This is good.”

It seemed that they had settled into the familiar quiet between speaking— not that any part of the situation was familiar. Harlan took the inside of his lower lip between his teeth out of habit, thinking.

Small talk had never been their thing, but he wasn't sure how they might be able to breach that in the present, given everything that had happened. They couldn't exactly jump into the conversations of substance that were usually saved for the middle of the night when they were cloaked in darkness and tangled up in each other. Harlan, and Honey he'd learned, had that much in common.

"Officially off duty," The wizard confirmed with a slight nod. "Apparently they've got nannies— who knew?" Harlan let out a chuckle before taking another sip of his drink that had suddenly reached the bottom of the glass. All signs were pointing to his sister having orchestrated the whole thing, but he wouldn't say it out loud.

"Of course it is," Harlan brushed aside the pride in his chest with a scoff as if she might expect anything less from him. "I know what you like," He said without thinking and swiftly backtracked. "A splash of soda water," And she meant it literally, though usually there was a sweet accompaniment, some kind of berry. "You know you don't have to stay for the party," Harlan thought out loud. "— if you don't want," He knew Audrey wouldn't, so the least he could do was offer the out.

He was officially off duty. Lucky her, she guessed. Honey nodded, had another sip of her drink. “Do they?” They had nannies but had asked Harlan to watch his niece anyway--Audrey was surely aware that Harlan liked Valerie more than he let on but she hadn’t thought that she would have planned all of this just to let him spend time with her without him having to ask. It was uncharacteristically nice of her.

She rolled her eyes--of course it is--but her laugh was caught in her throat as he said he knew what she liked. He didn’t mean it like that but how could it not be interpreted that way considering which two people were having the conversation? He corrected himself quickly, however, before she could say anything that would probably just prove his point. “Just a splash,” she confirmed, swallowing as she nodded. She had another sip of her drink as if that was further confirmation that the splash had been perfect.

Honey raised her eyebrows; she knew she didn’t have to stay for the party, but she was surprised that it was Harlan giving her the out. She didn’t think he was giving her permission to leave, really--she simultaneously cared the most and the least about his opinion of her--and she met his eye for a few seconds as she considered. She knew she should leave, especially now that she’d gotten a bit of gin in her system; she should go home and figure some things out that were apparently enough to cloud her judgement even when she was still close to sober.

She could just make an excuse about work--like always--but the desire to stay with Harlan, even in awkward silence, was winning out. He’d always been able to do that, have that inexplicable pull toward him. She thought she had maxed out that feeling before they had been properly dating--that’d been a big factor in her propositioning him with exclusivity, anyway--and that it was definitely gone after their chaotic breakup, but it had come back with full force (and then some) now that they were back to their regularly unscheduled chance meetings. (She realized seeing him twice in as many months shouldn’t have bothered her so much but that was beside the point now.)

“I want to,” she said after a couple of seconds, her voice at a volume that she tended to fall back to when she wanted to sound serious. “As long as--” She tilted her head toward him, hoping he wouldn’t make her finish her sentence: as long as you’re here. She took a slow step forward and took his glass from him, her fingers around the rim. “Can I get you another?”

Harlan wasn't aware of it until she said it, but a part of him had hoped that she might want to stay, mainly for his own selfish reasons. For one, he was jealous that she could just leave on her volition; and two, he had no intention of mingling with any of Audrey's other friends. Especially not after they'd had a few drinks.

"As long as?" He repeated, his eyebrow inclined as he watched Honey take a step toward him. He handed over the drink without much thought though his gaze lingered on her, unwilling to let the question go unanswered. He figured that she was going to say as long as he didn't mind. He didn't, of course, but it was more fun to tease her. "Ah, think I can survive your company—" He chuckled, an answer to the question he assumed.

"Please don't poison it, I was only joking," Harlan said over his shoulder with a grin, getting a look at her, and the dress, as she made her way to the bar.

Honey made quick work of the drink (he half trusted her pour), and Harlan took the glass with an appreciative nod, giving it a sniff before taking a hesitant sip. "You know, I could have sworn I broke that zipper..." He couldn't help but grin but his voice stayed even. Surely she knew exactly what zipper her was referring to— the one down her back, the one he thought just got in the way.

Honey shrugged off his followup question as she took his glass, already regretting even thinking about staying simply because of him. He didn’t catch her drift, though, and took it in a less serious direction. She would have clutched at her chest dramatically if both her hands weren’t full of drink; she settled on a slow eye roll instead. “Thank goodness.” He’d survive.

She moved to the bar, smiling over her shoulder at him. “Please, I’m not that desperate.” Maybe a couple months ago, but even then she didn’t want the whole of the Griffin’s fanbase mad at her—she still needed them to patronize her shop, after all—or at least make them any more upset than she had wearing a Portree jumper in a Griffin’s box, anyway. She didn’t dwell on that memory too long, though; she’d had interesting company for most of that match that she’d rather not think about.

She had no idea what he’d been drinking and no inclination to ask. She tipped in some gin and at least three splashes of soda and then another touch of gin just for good measure. (She added a touch more to hers, too, for whatever reason.)

She stole a sip of his drink—it was good—as she moved back to where he was still sitting, handing his glass back as she shrugged off his silent thanks. Honey stood where she’d been a minute before, looking slightly down at Harlan sitting on that chair’s armrest, a soft smirk on her lips because there was apparently no other way to look at him.

He mentioned the zipper—the one on her dress, she assumed—as she was mid sip and she raised her eyebrows, looking at him over the rim of her glass. He’d recognized the dress, then, and she was close to offering the disclaimer that she hadn’t planned it; the only thing that stopped her was not wanting to distract him from thinking about it, or that night, or her. She was happy to let his mind wander.

“You did,” she confirmed after another second. She’d borrowed a shirt so she could apparate home—couldn’t remember now if she’d ever given it back (she probably hadn’t)—and it had taken some effort to get that spilled drink all washed out but— “I fixed it.” She had another sip of her drink, not moving her gaze off of his, wondering if they’d be better off stopping the conversation right there.

But she was already having gin when she had planned to have none, had run into Harlan without planning it, so going against better judgement seemed like the thing to do. “No one’s been able to break this one.” She couldn’t think of anyone memorable enough trying, anyway.

Harlan had mentioned it casually, the dress, and the zipper by proxy, but he couldn't help but watch and wait for some kind of reaction, prepared to gauge its level. It was selfish of him to hope that there was going to be a reaction at all, but there he was, half-leaned against the side of the chair, an ankle propped over his knee and that damned knowing look on his face.

"What a pity," He shrugged a shoulder. It was really, a pity, not that the jealous man in him would allow him to fully give in to that feeling. Enough time had been put between he and Honey (distance, less so), that it would be perfectly normal for her to have moved on. However, he was fairly certain she was censoring herself for the sake of keeping the night civil, to keep stoking whatever undercurrent had picked up between them. This was usually the way, for them at least, but Harlan was unsure in which way he wanted the pendulum to swing.

"Looks like you got the drink off it as well, good," He used the excuse to study the length of the dress in search of any sugary stains. Navigating small talk hadn't gotten any easier it seemed, so he decided to stick with the game that they were so accustomed to playing. Harlan kicked his ankle over the top of his knee subtly to the distant sound of music from the party that they'd just vacated. They must have started mingling outside, he thought, but still, there was no sign of anyone coming to look for them, thankfully.

"Not so bad," He nodded to the drink, of course stopping short of actually thanking her. "Only tastes mildly poisoned..." He smiled up at her.

What a pity. Honey waited for him to continue—three months ago he would have taken it as a challenge--but he stayed quiet. That was the pity.

She shrugged one shoulder, careful to not move too much; she didn’t miss the once over he was giving her; she couldn’t say she minded; she realized a second later that maybe she should. She shook that doubt off her as she took another sip of her drink, pushing herself in the wrong direction. “Took a lot of effort.” It hadn’t. “Seems worth it now.” She caught his eye and smirked softly.

Was he fidgeting or-- Honey’s smirk softened into more of a smile when she connected the bounce of his foot to the sound of the music coming down the hall. It was a nice little bubble they’d found themselves in--for how many minutes now without being interrupted?--but maybe if she thought about it too much she might jinx it.

She laughed, shrugging off what she was deciding to take as a compliment. “Only mildly?” She matched his smile and held her hand out, beckoning at him with her fingers. “Give it here, I’ll put more in.” She dropped her hand and had another (yet larger) sip of her drink. “All my opportunities to poison you and you think I’d do it here.” She rolled her eyes, trying to stay serious, managing for a few seconds before she laughed again.

Honey had another sip before she moved around him to sit in the chair he was perched on, not giving herself enough time to think if she should. She just barely brushed up against him as she leaned back and crossed her legs, but it was enough, really (for now). “Do you think Audrey’s noticed yet?” She assumed it’d be obvious that she was talking about them sneaking off.

"Ms. Flume, in the library, with... poisoned gin?" Harlan ventured aloud with a slow smile to match the drawl of his voice. He had heard the idiom somewhere, from someone.

If he hadn't known better, he would have figured that he was properly relaxing— the ever-present tension in his shoulders subdued, the weight on his chest suspiciously light. It was probably just the break from the season. By coincidence he'd leaned back with an exhale, running a hand over the back of his neck, just as Honey had stepped around him to the chair to claim her seat.

"Hmm," Harlan hummed the thought over his glass, taking a sip before settling it between both hands held in his lap. He shifted so that his back wasn't to her, only paused for a moment when he felt the familiar closeness of them brushing against each other, and watched as she crossed her leg. Half of him assumed she had done it on purpose and the other half knew better.

"Seems not," He shrugged, casting his gaze to the open door briefly. "She must be preoccupied..." He raised an eyebrow skeptically.

Harlan let out another breath, contemplating where the two of them went from there. A few months ago, he'd have known exactly where, but they had landed themselves in uncharartered territory. He and Honey weren't dating, but they weren't friends— and miraculously they weren't enemies, either. So where exactly did that leave them?

Resting an elbow on the back of the armchair behind her head, he traced the creases of the leather, eyes flicking down to her after a brief pause. "Knowing Audrey, this was her plan all along," This being them, escaping the party. He gestured with the hand behind her between them, despite the fact that Honey couldn't see.

Harlan shifted and she glanced up at him over the rim of her glass as she had another sip. “Hmm,” she repeated, mirroring his movements and holding her glass in her lap, hoping to bring his gaze down with her movements. She twisted a little, angling her legs toward him so she could make herself a little more comfortable, get a better look at him.

Honey raised her eyebrows, leaving her gaze fixed on him as he looked toward the doors to the room. “Must be.” She smirked softly before she hid her expression behind her glass, having another drink.

She didn’t want to think that Audrey was deliberately not looking for them—didn’t want to hope that’s what she was up to—but it was hard not to settle into that feeling, or grab at it, more like.

Harlan shifted again and Honey smiled up at him, happy he was fidgeting to get more comfortable rather than get up to find his own chair. She raised her eyebrows again, at this being Audrey’s plan all along, doing her best to not look pleased. “You think?” She held his gaze for another few seconds before she looked back to the doors, half expecting Audrey to come slinking down the hall now that they had both acknowledged that there was even anything to plan.

“What’d you tell her about—“ she looked up at Harlan again and moved her free hand between them airily. Us, she was asking about. “I didn’t tell her, y’know....” She hadn’t told Audrey the details, the reason for the breakup, anything to purposefully make her sympathetic to Honey after everything. And she was thankful for that now, because after everything she was somehow regretting it all, somehow convincing herself that she had overreacted because it was just a kiss and wasn’t that easier than to think about all the other reasons they wouldn’t have worked out? If it hadn’t been that, it’d just be something else. She’d gotten good at distracting herself from the logic of it all.

Harlan hadn't felt the need to get up at once; for one, it was his seat first, and two, he was quite comfortable as it was. The two of them could sit close to each other without it having to mean something more, he thought. At least, that was what he had seemingly set out to prove to himself— that he was capable of some hint of volition. The man liked testing himself almost as much as he did others.

"I do," He confirmed with a simple nod, eyes turning up to the ceiling the moment he they held contact for a fraction of a second too long. He couldn't be too careful with his newfound quest to keep things platonic, maintain something other than—

Honey spoke again and Harlan's flicked back down, first her legs that were leaned toward him, then swiftly back up to her face. "Oh, she knows everything..." He half sat back against the back of the chair and lowered his forearm so that it laid casually over the other side above her shoulders. He offered a sympathetic smile despite the fact that he didn't feel all that bad. "I learned long ago that if Audrey wants details, she'll find them for herself..." He quirked an eyebrow knowingly.

"She slapped me, you know?" He let out a chuckle, running his hand over the side of his jaw in thought. Enough time had passed that he figured he didn't have to suppress laughing about it— he deserved it afterall. "I'm surprised she hasn't spoken to you about it..." He said more seriously, assuming as such.

“Oh.” Audrey knew everything and Honey couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. She kept her gaze on Harlan as he shifted again, trying to figure out what his expression was meant to mean--was it a sad smile? He couldn’t pity her in this situation, considering--and tried to keep herself looking interested in what else he had to say so she didn’t have to keep asking questions. “Oh, sure.” She laughed quickly and had another drink. She didn’t usually find herself at a loss for words with him but she didn’t want to ask him if he meant everything everything or the version of everything she’d told her own sibling.

If it was everything everything: why hadn’t Audrey said anything? Honey had seen her a few times since. And she--the other she--had said she was a family friend when Honey had met her at that quidditch match, which suggested Audrey knew her or knew of her at the very least and-- unless she’d been lying about being a family friend? But then that would make Harlan’s invite to the quidditch match that much worse and--

Harlan spoke again and Honey was grateful, both for getting her thoughts away from that and for Harlan’s honesty. And for Audrey slapping him; she was more than a little grateful for that. “She probably didn’t want to make me jealous, slapping you and all.” Honey smirked softly and had another drink, embracing the idea of Audrey having some ulterior motive with the cake and the party and her and Harlan and-- Honey swallowed, first nothing and then more of her gin.

She’d told Audrey last month that she’d slept with Will right after all of that--Audrey had less negative opinions than Grace, after all--though she’d left out the finer details of him being the very recent ex of the other woman; if Audrey knew everything, was it truly everything? Merlin, Honey didn’t like being the last to find out about things. She moved to have another sip of her drink but mid-swallow she decided to finish the whole thing.

Honey was in less of a rush to get a refill; she’d had the first on an empty stomach and the chair (and her proximity to Harlan) was comfortable (and comforting?). She crossed her legs the other way and settled back again, gaze flicking back up to Harlan. “I’m alright playing along with Audrey’s plan, if you are.” And if the plan was to spite better judgement and continue avoiding the party.

Harlan let out a sympathetic chuckle. She had every reason to have slapped him once upon a time; still did if he were being honest. "Suppose so," The blond agreed with a slow drink, watching with interest as Honey necked what was left of her own. He wondered briefly if he made a mistake by bringing anything (and everything) up. In the grand scheme, next to no time had passed— not that time was the end-all barometer for that kind of thing.

The nuances of their situation affected his otherwise precisely logical means of rationalization.

"As long as that doesn't mean you're going to slap me..." Harlan ventured on a grin, catching Honey's eye as she looked up at him. His mouth lingered over the lip of his glass for a moment. He knew what she meant by it, but keeping things surface was easier than trying to delve into just what his sister's little plan meant for them. Outside of the library, the sound of voices had disappeared and the subtle swell of music on marble was all that seeped into their hideaway.

"Sounds like they've sat for dinner," Blue eyes looked upward to the ceiling as if it might help him to hear. "Think we're in the clear," Harlan let out another breath, shoulders relaxing again.