ride that wave

"Well, yes," Harlan admitted. "Not that I'd like to," He had every intention to refute the fact that he had his choice of booths at Echelon but he knew better than to lie to her. Nessa was too switched on for that. She mentioned the anonymity that came with her line of work and the gears visibly shifted within him, his steel-colored eyes narrowing on her. "Hang about..." He mirrored her and leaned against the pool table, half facing her so that he could really study her, his leg pressing hers. "You're using me, then?" He placed the hand that precariously held his drink to his chest.

The question was rhetorical.

"You're welcome," Harlan said more earnestly in response to her gratitude. Even if it had been laden with an ulterior motive, he figured he couldn't not accept it. "I lost. Deal's a deal," Again, he used Nessa's words as his own shamelessly. Harlan took another mouthful and reminded himself to enjoy it as it neared the bottom of the glass. It had gone straight to his head and he was feeling uncharacteristically light despite his best efforts to maintain his composure.

 "I do wonder though," He nodded back what was left of his glass. "Is Echelon just to torture me to do you secretly enjoy a bad DJ and a crowd?" Harlan grinned.

Nessa stuck her nose up at him disapprovingly and clicked her tongue, "What is the point of all that fame if you don't use it?" She asked because Nessa would never understand playing professional Quidditch just because one enjoyed the game. In her mind, every profession, intellectual or physical, was a means to an end and a way to get paid. Salaries weren't always silver and gold, though. While Nessa enjoyed the steady stream of knowledge she earned from her chosen career, she had assumed the only merit to playing Quidditch, other than a hefty Gringott's account, was the recognition. Her scowl lightened when he started in on the dramatics, and Nessa pushed his shoulder lightly, in response to his accusation, and giggled.

She supposed that she was using him, in a way, but even if he refused her request, she still would have wanted to spend a little more time with him. And besides, she had won the bet; she had earned it. Admiring the way he enjoyed his expensive bourbon, even if she knew he was using it as a delay, Nessa followed suit and finished her glass.

"Maybe a little bit of both," She admitted with a coy shrug, "I do fancy the way the music seems to drown out everything else," Despite her stiff exterior and her penchant for quiet, reserved things, Nessa did enjoy a good party now and then. She might even dance. If she had enough to drink, anything was possible. "You can lose yourself in a place like that, you know?"

Nessa met his gaze, noticing that the space between herself and Harlan was less than it had been all night, and realized she could get lost here, too.

Harlan made a face. It was typical for a lot of players he knew to get into Quidditch simply for the fame but for him, it was so much more. There was the glory of the game, of course, but more he enjoyed the pride of it all. Neither of which had anything to do with people wanting his autograph or people wanting to know him just because of his name. In fact, those were the worst parts of it all. "Could do without it," He answered earnestly over the lip of his drink just in time for her to halfheartedly push up against his shoulder for giving her a hard time.

A grin broke out over his features despite everything in him that was screaming to run, and run as fast as he could before Nessa had the chance to lure him into any other forms of torture. She mentioned getting lost in a place like Echelon, not in the physical sense, and his eyes narrowed in thought, brow furrowing. There was a certain appeal to it that was tugging at his chest. "Let's get this over with then, getting lost," Not that he had a choice. Harlan figured he had to at least attempt to keep up the charade.

He dropped his coins on the table without counting and collected their coats, handing hers over before shrugging his on on their way out the door. The temperature had dropped again outside, the still of the night cutting through, but he knew they were smart not to apparate. Echelon was only up the road, anyway, he could already hear the bad music and drunken yells.

"You really know how to make my life hell," Harlan said over his shoulder as he reluctantly made his way to the doorman who seemed to have loosened up a bit when the moment of recognition flickered over his face. Harlan was by no means a regular there, but it wasn't an uncommon reaction. "Mr. Bellamy, welcome," The man let them in and spoke something into his hand (some sort of magical earpiece, phone system) and before he knew it they were crowded by members of the staff ushering them toward a booth on a half-raised upper level of the nightclub.

"Really?" He shot Nessa a look over his shoulder as an explosion of fire lit up a bottle that was floating in the center of the table surrounded by plush velvet couches. She had nothing to do with it but she was to blame for making him go there at all. Harlan sighed as he leaned against the railing, palms planted firmly.

"Yes, let's," Nessa beamed at him as he held out her coat. She pulled it over her shoulders, preparing herself for what she knew would be a cold night, but not even the enchanted leather could stave off the frigid air for long. The witch cursed under her breath as the night air bit at her cheeks and pulled the jacket tighter. Speeding up, Nessa walked closer to Harlan than before and sought out whatever warmth he could provide. Thankfully it wasn't far to the next spot, and before the shivering started, they had arrived.

Nessa watched with interest as the doorman allowed them to skip the queue and head right in. She supposed Harlan Bellamy didn't have to wait in line for much of anything anymore, and another pang of envy fell over her. Following him inside, Nessa was impressed as a gaggle of employees led them toward a private booth. She leaned over the railing to preview the dance floor below and saw crowds of witches and wizards already half in the bag swaying to some music she didn't recognize. Turning around just as the bottle on the table broke into a fiery display, Nessa folded her hands in front of her excitedly.

"That is quite dramatic," She said, smiling at the display and her triumph at getting him to bring her here in the first place. "Quite the heroes welcome," Nessa began, trying to hide her obvious jealousy with something judgemental. "You'd think you and your Griffins were fighting for Queen and country instead of playing a game," As she often did, the witch covered up her insecurities by trying to point the finger at others. The club for treating him like a God, the world for honoring Quidditch players like the Knights of old, and Harlan for having only gotten more attractive with age.

Standing beside him, her back to the railing, Nessa leaned against the banister and looked up at Harlan. "Thank you for bringing me here," She said politely, but the mischievous smile on her face said more.

"So then, dancing... or drinking?"

"Are we not?" Harlan asked with a glance over to Nessa who had sidled up beside him to face in the opposite direction with her elbows draped precariously over the glass barrier overlooking the crowd of the nightclub. Distractingly, overhead dancing across the dome-like ceiling was a series of flaming lights that looked like shooting stars, magically shifting into a sea of stars. His eyes, both dark and on fire at the same time, shot upward briefly before returning to her.

Fighting for the Queen and country.

The idea was enticing enough by definition. The statement gave Harlan pause amongst the pure debaucherous chaos that was Echelon. He'd had enough to drink to allow the inevitable guilt to creep into the back of his mind— a truth, he figured— that in no way he did he deserve even a fraction of that sense of glory. It was quidditch for Merlin's sake, they weren't saving lives on the pitch.

"Didn't have much choice, now did I?" He grinned, the twinkle in his eye matching the pointedly mischievous one of Nessa's own after she had thanked him— earnestly, it seemed, despite herself— for taking her there. "That wasn't part of the agreement," Dancing. Harlan took a step toward the bottle once it had stopped its private firework show and poured two glasses with a calculated flick of his wrist.

"A drink," Harlan declared as if it wasn't already clear. He handed over Nessa's glass without bothering with a chaser.

Amused by his answer Nessa shrugged with a coquettish grin playing on her features. Professional Quidditch may not have been saving the world, but it was undoubtedly glamourous. Despite the envy that was so clear in her little dig Nessa was impressed by how Harlan handled his fame. He had always been confident, but she knew he had earned every bit of it. "No, you did not," She quipped, tilting her head back a little as she let out a laugh.

"Then perhaps we need a new agreement?" Nessa offered, stepping away from the rail and toward him at their private table. The bottle had stopped shooting sparks, and Harlan was quick to get drinks poured. Nessa wondered if it was the drink or the distraction he was more interested in as she accepted the glass he offered.

"You can't possibly expect to bring someone dressed like me to a place like this and not dance," She said, knocking back the drink without a second thought for a chaser.

"It is just not civilized," In one fluid motion, Nessa set down her glass and closed the distance between the two of them. Close enough now that nearly shouting was no longer required, Nessa lowered her voice and gave him a sultry look. "If we aren't going to dance, then you'll have to entertain me some other way." Nessa sighed, taking a dramatic look at her manicured nails before turning her eyes back up to Harlan. "You know how easily I get bored."

Harlan might have guessed that his choice wouldn't go over all that easily. Not that he blamed Nessa for making the most of her win of course—he would have been insufferable if the shoe were on the other foot— but either way, he found his eyes rolling back at the mention of a new agreement. "I'm afraid you only won the once, Regan..." He clicked his tongue knowingly. One win, one deal.

As Nessa entered his space, the bravado faltered briefly but Harlan quickly regained focus on her as she finished the drink in one go. Eventually, his gaze succumbed to traversing her outfit, as not-so-subtly mentioned, and he took his time. Merlin, what had he gotten himself into?

"Hmm," Harlan hummed a thought, a hand running through his hair, more of an excuse to keep it to himself than anything vain. He considered finding an out then and there to keep himself out of trouble—he always had his eye on one way out—but he had lost their bet all the same. His thirties weren't the time for him to decide to become a sore loser.

Leaning closer to set down his drink which he'd only taken a few sips of, he intentionally ran a hand over the dark fabric of her dress as he came nearly close enough to be pressed against her. Harlan wrapped his hand nonchalantly around her torso where the garment opened up to reveal a fully exposed back. He would be lying to himself if he hadn't noticed that earlier.

"But you were always so good at entertaining yourself," He mentioned with a smirk, stepping back to put some space between them.

There was no denying the chemistry as Harlan closed the distance between them. His hand brushing up the fabric of her dress until the rough calluses of his fingertips grazed her bare skin. Nessa fought a shiver as the electricity ran up her spine. She knew Harlan could play the same games; she had learned half of them from him in the first place, but she had forgotten how good he was at them.

"But you were always so good at entertaining yourself," The lack of space between them made Nessa's head spin. In that split second, she remembered everything good, and everything bad, that Harlan had ever made her feel, and her breath caught in her chest. In a sense, she felt blessed to have been in such capable hands for so many of her firsts. But on the other hand, Nessa had the incessant need to show up every teacher she had ever had, Harlan included. It wasn't just about torturing the one that got away, the one wizard in all of history that had managed to break Nessa Jade Regan's heart; it was about proving to herself that she was beyond over it.

"That is true," She said, as her heart raced, her chest rising and falling with every breath. Maybe it was the alcohol, but the room suddenly felt ten degrees hotter. Harlan stepped back, and Nessa steadied herself. "Well, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself." Batting her eyes at him, the dark witch moved to take a seat in the booth. Nessa poured them both another drink and held his out as an invitation to join her at the table. Maybe they could still have fun, even if they weren't dancing.

It wasn't fair— he was acutely aware— the gratification that came with having a tangible effect on another person that he could see. There was something intoxicating to it that had absolutely nothing to do with the drink he'd only just sat down behind Nessa. Harlan watched with interest as her breath rose and fell more measuredly than it had moments before when there was a bit more space between them. In return, a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth and verging on smug.

"Of course," Harlan couldn't argue her point. The clarity that came from even a bit of distance between them reminded him just who he was talking to. He and Nessa had been complicated even at the best of times those years ago. Much of their time together he looked back on with a degree of guilt because of who he was as a person at that time. In short; an absolute knob.

Nessa made her way to the booth and Harlan followed after a moment to himself. The growing space between them and the drink she was summoning him over with reminded him how much he'd consumed, alcohol or not. Everything had started to familiarly light. Harlan was at the dangerous fork in the road and he found himself drawn more and more off the beaten track.

"Cheers," With one hand he took the proffered glass while he used the other to steady himself— her leg seemed like the most viable aid— and he slid into the booth. It was impossible not to sit close if they wanted any chance of hearing each other over the migraine-inducing music (if it could be called that). Though, he certainly didn't need to do that. After lingering for a moment Harlan took his hands back to himself and his own lap.

"I can't believe people pay to do this..." He mused, genuinely in awe. He leaned back against the booth casually and rest an elbow behind him so that he was half-facing Nessa and half facing the throngs of witches and wizards that were starting to melt together on the dancefloor. "Now what? I've paid my dues..." Harlan decided after his brief moment of self-reflection. She won their bet and he had complied with only minimal complaint. It could have been worse, he decided, as his gaze landed back on her, amused.

Nessa wasn't confused about the way that Harlan made her feel, no, far from it. She understood it, but she wished she had more control over it. Somehow when he looked at her like that she was suddenly nineteen years old again and under his spell. Nessa prided herself on being in control, being manipulative and independent, but add a little alcohol, and she was putty in Harlan's hand. She already knew she'd let the night get away from her and that her future self would have some serious scolding to do, but that just made her want to make even worse decisions. Decisions she would probably regret tomorrow, but she knew would be worth it tonight.

Pouring them both another glass, she tried to convince herself that more alcohol would improve the situation. If he got drunk, she'd have more control over the situation. It wasn't as if Nessa was already trashed from drinking, they hadn't had very much, and she Irish, so she had more built-in tolerance than most, but the whiskey coupled with everything else was making it difficult to think clearly. The music was so loud, the booth was warm, and Harlan's hand was on her leg. The thin material of her dress made it feel like his hand was on her skin, and her skin felt like it was on fire.

"Not everyone pays to get in," She teased him back, bumping her shoulder lightly into his, already missing the physical contact as his hand moved away from her thigh. She had never paid to get into a place like this, but she didn't feel the need to spell out all of the other dates she'd been on to Harlan right now. Leaning her head back against the back of the booth Nessa took a solid breath, what felt like the first one in minutes, and realized he had been right all along. Places like this were awful. It wasn't that long ago that she would have loved being here, dancing, drinking, partying until she couldn't stand to wear her heels anymore, but it seemed like she had outgrown places like this as well. Pulling her wand out of a magically hidden pocket of the dress, Nessa wrapped a spell around them silently, and the music quieted.

"I am not saying you were right or anything..." She would never. Nessa met his eyes with a smile, "But that music is quite possibly the worst I have ever heard. Merlin, it sounds like a troll getting a tooth pulled." With the music lower, and the nearly invisible barrier spell shimmering around them, the booth felt even more private than before, and Nessa took the opportunity to scoot closer to Harlan.

As usual, Nessa made a good point. This time he found it less infuriating than before. Harlan couldn't remember the last time that he paid to get in anywhere like Echelon. It had to have been at least a decade ago when he was young and stupid, and by definition, entirely broke. It was strange the way that the more money you earned the fewer chances you had to actually spend it. A bit sick, too, Harlan thought to himself as the thought crossed his mind again.

The soundproofed barrier produced around them was sheen with a subtle glimmer and provided a very welcomed divide from the rest of the room. If he thought about it enough he could pretend they weren't there altogether. With a grin, he glanced over to the dark-haired witch, thankful that he didn't have to actively work to hear her or read her lips— though he was still watching them all the same.

"I think..." Harlan paused to hear the mumble of the song she had so graciously shielded them from. "You know, it might actually be a troll having a tooth pulled," He got out through an amused set of laughter, his mouth dimpling at either side underneath a layer of darkened winter facial hair. "Regretting your choice of punishment yet?" Harlan asked more seriously. In all fairness, he would have found a way to turn it back on her either way so Echelon really had worked out in his favor.

Nessa was generally a serious witch, all business and intellect, but the whiskey had her feeling light, and being around Harlan reminded her of younger years. She stifled a giggle when he commented on the troll dentist soundtrack and pushed him. Maybe it was a troll; in this world, she wouldn't have been all that surprised. It was surprising that the crowd seemed to be enjoying the music—if you could call it that.

"I don't regret anything," She insisted, but of course, it was a lie. Not a terrible lie, but it certainly wasn't truthful; it was harder to say while one of her biggest regrets was sitting next to her. Laughing again, Nessa reached for her glass and held it up to toast to him. "To troll teeth and regrets," She declared before shooting the whiskey in a truly Irish fashion and pouring another drink. She didn't need another one, but the more she had, the less she remembered her past regrets and the more likely she was to make new ones.

"Well, tonight certainly turned out better than I had expected." The witch admitted, giving Harlan a genuine smile, and swaying a little. "You are a lot more fun than my last date." Nessa probably wouldn't have spent another five minutes on her previous date had Harlan not rescued her, but she was still happy with the turn of events.

Harlan was feeling entirely too at ease given the circumstances. He was lulled into a false sense of security with the sound-proofed charm around them that made him almost believe that they were invisible, with Nessa comfortably at his side in a way that was both familiar and foreign. "Liar," He tutted, glancing over at her and holding her eye for a moment too long before flickering away. He had to remind himself just what he was dealing with when it came to her. 

Instead of dwelling on that thought, he brought his glass to her and followed suit, draining what was left of his drink and setting it down on the table in front of them where she was refilling. At the rate they were going they weren't going to make it out of Echelon on their feet.

Nessa said that her night had turned out better than she expected— a low bar— but Harlan could tell that she was being sincere because of the familiar way that that her brow pulled together into something of a frown as if the admission was sinister in some way. "You really are a liar," He teased, nudging her with his shoulder as he sat back against the booth, clapping a palm to her knee and not allowing himself the indulgence to linger.

"I'm only joking," He grinned, letting out a tired sigh. "Suppose it hasn't been all that bad..." His eyes narrowed on the ceiling before flicking back to her just as a woman who worked there approached with a tray of something cloaked under a veil of smoke. She blew to reveal two sparkling vials of something that he was old enough to know wasn't alcohol. "Oh, no we're—" He began, but she left as soon as she had snuck up.

Feeling Harlan's hand on her knee, Nessa smiled a bit more. Tonight had certainly gone better than she had thought it would. Even seeing Harlan again after so long had been easier than she had always assumed. They had not left things on good terms, and that last fight had tarnished some of the good memories for Nessa, but this night had fixed some of that. Time, distance, and maturity fixed a lot more. She wasn't mad at him anymore, not that she had any right to be after so long, but happy for him. Nessa was impressed by all that Harlan had achieved, even if she hadn't said it.

"Not me," Nessa teased back, placing her hand on her chest theatrically before laughing again. It felt good to let loose; even if they were in the world's worst nightclub, she was still having fun. The waitress broke through Nessa's soundproofing charm, and the bass from the dancefloor punched through for a moment. Squinting her eyes and frowning, the witch didn't notice the vials placed on the table until after she had resecured the quieting charm.

"Oh," She breathed, looking from the vials to Harlan, wondering if he had somehow ordered them without her noticing and then assuring herself he had not. "I'll pass on those," She said; the thought of getting high and out of control was a sobering one, but Nessa moved to pick up one of the vials regardless. She had no intention of taking the potion, but she did unclip the cork to inspect it. Little flecks of what looked like diamonds, but must have been illusions, floated around in the pearly liquid. "Diamond Lush, how quaint." Nessa read the label with a tone of disgust and then realized the familiar look of the bottles. "These are my brother's handiwork."

And just like that, the flighty excitable feelings started to fade, and the dread of an incoming hangover began to set in. Nessa had no idea what time it was, but the witch was pretty sure it was far too late for bad decisions.

Harlan raised a hand to protest but he and Nessa were left under a veil of the subdued quiet of their booth, alone with the shimmering vials that seemed to carry their own sound despite not making any noise. "I didn't—" He was going to explain he hadn't ordered those when it dawned on him that he didn't actually have anything to explain in the matter and that he was just in the dark as she was but he found himself wanting to go back to how it had been moments before. Instead, a cold lingered in the air.

She picked one up and quickly identified it— unsurprisingly. Nessa's family were exceptionally well versed in that world. "Oh yeah?" He tried to not sound impressed as his eyes were drawn to the twinkling in the glass like a sea of mesmerizing stars. It wasn't hard to see how people got hooked and he hadn't even had a sip yet.

"They probably just brought those because—" Harlan watched as she set it back down, her arms folding over her chest. "Just because," He landed on not-at-all-succinctly. It was most likely a gift from the owner of the place though he couldn't bring himself to say that out loud. Not after the way that she had reacted. Pushing the tray back he shifted in the booth to face Nessa. The dynamic of her family wasn't one he remembered talking in-depth about during their time together, but it was clear something was there.

"You alright?" He took a sip as casually as he could muster, setting his glass down just as carefully. The more time went on the more it became clear they wouldn't be able to shift back into whatever the night had been before that point.