night ride | roslyn

She felt a measure of relief that he seemed to understand.  Not to exhaust her point here but she couldn’t highlight enough how stuck she was in regards to the whole situation. It seemed a silly thing to fret over, really. In the grand scheme she could’ve just been a bloody adult about it, yea? She just couldn’t trust herself not to blow up about it which was why strategic retreat was so necessary. If you were out of maneuverable options it left little else, really.

That her date was a trifecta of awful was like calling a thestral, well, a thestral.

“Thank you.” She said quietly, the anxiety slowly leaving her shoulders along with a drawn out sigh. She really was quite grateful. The most surprising aspect of it all was the chivalry. Beneath the layer of teasing (which lets be honest, was quite enjoyable) she had no reason to expect much else from someone who was, in actual fact, a stranger. Sure she knew his face but she didn’t know him. She certainly found herself wanting to. Any man that was willing to rescue someone just because scored some points for being a decent sort of bloke. The worry of him having some ulterior motive was, incidentally, nonexistent.

For one he didn’t even know her name. For two a man like Harlan Bellamy had plenty of witches throwing themselves at him on a constant basis, she was sure. There was really no need for him to go through any significant effort, so why bother yea? She was a good shot with her wand at any rate so she wasn’t going to worry too much about questioning his motives.

She chose instead to be silently pleased. And, though Roslyn Hayes was nothing on the realm of obedient ever, she let herself be ushered out through the kitchen, not even a witty rejoinder to be uttered. This was, also, a way of showing her gratitude. There’d be no fuss from her, where there ordinarily would’ve been. Even if it was just to tease. Not even an acknowledgement of the knowing glances they were getting were forthcoming. There were some smirks and smiles, and quite a few glances. Through it all she just smiled and gracefully glided through the kitchen as they made their way out.

Once outside she took a steadying breath, tugging on Harlan’s shirt sleeve to gain his attention before looking at him seriously in the eye. “Thank you, truly.” she murmured, a flush making its way onto her face. “I very much appreciate your assistance.” she added, her accent deepening just a tad in her sincerity. “He seemed like the kind of man that would go out of his way to file assault charges if I had hexed him.” she said a bit sheepishly. That she would have resorted to hexing him was an obvious thing. “An Auror can’t afford many of those if they want to keep their job.” No matter how good at it she was, there would always be limits to that kind of thing. The ministry was the ministry, after all.

“Now let me make it up to ye with food and I pint, alright?” she offered, her lips curling up into a smile. She brandished her wand, spelling her hair into a half updo, before muttering a ‘finite’ on her dress. Instantly, the falling snow froze, glittering in place like icicles. She went to reach out for his arm again, this time more hesitantly. “C’mon. It’s just outside Diagon. I hope you’re alright with a Half-Blood establishment. At least the muggles are less likely to recognize you.” She added, already in higher spirits as she chattered. She supposed if he did care then the estimation of his character had been in error.

She led the way out through Leaky, and out through muggle London. She stopped in front of a restaurant called ‘Ode to the Moon’, greeting the girl at the front enthusiastically. Chelsea was a slip of a thing, and the sister to the owner, whom she was friends with at Hogwarts. The lot were Hufflepuff alumni and she thought it was brilliant to open up shop so close to Diagon, especially when a seating section catered to wizards. A little muggle repelling charm was all it took.

“Tables open for you out back, Ros!” came the cheery reply. It said a lot about her that they did not hesitate to serve them so close to closing time. “The usual?” The Auror hesitated for a second, unsure if she should order for the tall wizard before responding. “Yes, please! Mind bringing us a menu so my friend can have a look, too? Not sure if he’d like to order something else. He’s never been.” And if there was extra she could give it to Toph if she ended up there tonight for some dueling practice. If not then she’d have lunch for the next day. “You can literally order anything you’d like. My usual is a pie of half cheese, half pepperoni. And some garlic knots. She’s bringing that out in a bit but if you’d like something else just order whatever. Beers on draft and all.” she added as she sat down. She wasn’t sure how much she needed to explain but the place was nice and cozy, warm lighting and soft leather bench booths that felt buttery soft. They had an endless array of hanging plants and art littered around the place. It was very odd for a Pureblood to frequent such an establishment but, well, it wasn’t something that mattered to her very much.

Best part? She finally she felt comfortable.

"That's alright," Harlan said for what felt like the hundredth time. "Really," He added more seriously as he glanced over at her in the hopes that she might stop thanking him for just doing the right thing. It always came as a bit of a shock as far as compliments went. More and more, it was becoming clear to him that the bar for men had to be at an all-time low. If his twenties were any indication, of course, it certainly wasn't a stretch of the imagination.

Distractedly he watched the transformation act as her hair twisted up and out of her face. It took him a moment to process the question posed. Turning to the footpath ahead, he cleared his throat. "Even better," He stately plainly, honestly. Harlan preferred muggle friendly establishments because he could be just another person in the crowd. There were places he could go in the wizarding world where he could go unnoticed, of course, but it became far less likely.

Inside it was warmer again and he realized then that he'd left his coat at Orsay. Could always stop by on his way home, he figured. The restaurant wasn't like many he'd seen before. There was art, graffiti splashed over the exposed brick walls, yelling coming from behind the open counter where pizzas were being thrown in and out of stone ovens. "Cheers, thanks, we'll take a jug?" He nodded to the waiter with a half-smile, only moderately overwhelmed by the stark change of pace.

"Sorry, shit, did I just order for you?" Harlan teased, a not-so-subtle nod to her date left behind and possibly still in search of her. "Hope you like beer..." He commented over the menu with a quirk of his eyebrow. If not, more for him, anyway. "I'll trust your judgment on the pizza..." He tried to keep too much skepticism from his voice. "Need the full experience," There was a hint of a challenge in his tone. "I just realized—" He set down the menu and sat back against the booth. "I don't even know your name," He let out a laugh.

If she was a reporter, he really was digging a grave.

“Beers fine. Encouraged, even.” she confirmed, grinning a bit. It was her opinion that pizza was only enhanced by beer. “Guess I’m stuck with you. I doubt I’ll find some other nice bloke who will help me escape.” she teased right back, grinning. “Besides you did have a good wine suggestion earlier. I’ll defer to your drink suggestions.” She didn’t actually have a problem with someone ordering for her so long as it was an inclusive thing. Also she’d technically ordered for him. An even exchange was beyond acceptable for her.

“It’s good! I usually get half because sometimes I want cheese and sometimes I want pepperoni and really you shouldn’t have to choose between two good things when you can just have them both.” Life was hard enough as it was without taking away the little joy in life that you could. “We can order another one if you’re hungry. Or just another you’d like to try. They’re all really delicious.” And filling. Yum.

It took a moment for what he said to fully register but when it did she couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her throat, joining with his own. “That’s ... quite funny.” she managed, gasping the words out. She leaned forward on her elbows, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Roslyn Hayes. I work for the DMLE as an Auror. I’d show you my badge, but I’d have to bring you in.” she introduced herself, teasing a bit.

“I think I’ve forgiven you for leaving the Magpies.” Which coming from her was pretty monumental. “Do you always come to the rescue of witches in need, then?” She asked curiously, taking a sip of the beer she poured for herself once the jug was placed on the countertop. She gave the waiter a smile and a murmured thanks before focusing her attention back at Harlan.

Harlan listened as she explained the perfectly sound, though complex, rationale for her usual ordering process. He never thought about that much as far as food was concerned, not much beyond a source of fuel, anyway. The man was unmistakably a creature of habit. Most nights it was meat and two veg. But every so often he diversified his palette, usually when prompted by someone else and in more ways than one. And cheap pizza and beer was a top contender, along with dollar dumplings in hole in wall restaurants and served to tables with plastic chairs and tables.

"Roslyn Hayes," Harlan mirrored her grin without trying, extending his hand over the table after having manually poured himself a beer. It was always strange to remember to do things without the simple flick of his wrist when muggles were around, but he'd had plenty of practice. "Harlan Bellamy," He offered a handshake in greeting as if it hadn't very well been established that she knew exactly who he was. "Gravesend Griffins, most recent championship team," He teased with a smirk. "I'd show you the cup, but...."

Harlan let out a laugh after taking a mouthful of beer, already thankful for the distinctly on-tap flavor. "Oh yeah?" He leaned forward, interested. "Easier than I thought..." He mused, almost to himself over the lip of the glass with a grin. Did he always rescue witches in need? He thought about the question for a moment and realized that he did have a penchant for putting himself in the middle of situations much like the one that night. Likely also, he figured, why fights seemed to find him.

"Only those I'm trying to pay my debt to," He said plainly. "As a traitor and all," He knocked her cup in cheers despite the fact that they'd both already taken a drink. There was probably some folklore that said the rest of his life was doomed for that, but he didn't buy it.

Roslyn did not hesitate at all to give the wizard extending his hand a firm shake, lips curling up into a pleased sort of smile. Those that gave limp handshakes were the actual worst. Right next to the kind of person that extended their hands like you were supposed to drop a kiss on them rather than shake. She sometimes gripped rather violently and held their wrists tightly in retaliation. Sometimes, she reasoned, power moves were rather necessary. "Friends-" she said slowly, drawing the words out, "-call me Ros." it seemed a natural thing, extending this courtesy out to the man who had prevented her night from becoming a literal dumpster fire of a night.

"I didn't think I'd ever say this but... pleased to meet you." she said, still huffing with laughter. "Please, don't. How utterly tragic." she didn't need the added reminder of how her beloved team had failed. Still some good natured ribbing never really hurt. The whole point of supporting a sports team, yea? At some points the team you rooted for looses, and its the mark of a dedicated fan to sort of roll with the punches. Besides the most important part was how they played the game, at least for her. How good a game was, really. "Though I suppose I can admit it was a brilliant game and a good win." she admitted, eyes glittering. "Quidditch is great." she tacked on, wistful smile on her face. She missed playing, sometimes.

The brunette witch unconsciously leaned forward herself, huffing in laughter. "You underestimate the value of your assistance." she said wryly. She took another moment to appreciate the man's smile, admiring, and mentally cataloguing the stark difference between him and Henry. It was difficult not to compare the two, and finding the latter wanting. "Mum' has her heart in the right place, really. But her candidates leave much to be desired." and really it was a cyclical issue that just kept coming up. "I don't have the heart to tell her no anymore. I just find dating to be difficult and she doesn't understand." she understood her mothers motivations at this point, but it didn't make the machinations and interference any more palatable. "My job doesn't really lend itself to successful attachments." she said idly, a smile still on her face. The rather large problem was her unwillingness to try. In her eyes if a man really wanted her then he'd find a workaround to the walls she'd built around herself.

She was self-aware enough to know she used the job as a deterrent. She really did love what she did, though, and wasn't willing to compromise on someone who was anything less than deserving. She hadn't found that person and her mother definitely wasn't any closer to it than she was. "It's good to know you pay your debts." she said, clinking her own glass against his and taking another sip.

 

He'd opened his mouth to ask if he was considered in the friends' category (would he call her that? not yet, he thought) but the conversation swiftly moved along, fuelled by banter and beer that was better served in plastic cups. "Always happy to exceed expectations," Harlan quipped in direct response to her comment about being surprised that she was actually pleased to meet him. He found that it was either one way or the other. When it came to him, people either loved or hated him, and he figured he might not like it any other way.

At the mention of Roslyn's dating life and its nuances, Harlan found himself taking gulps of beer more frequently, hastily enough that he had to actively slow himself down before he would need to pour another. It made him uncomfortable in general, those conversations, much less with something of a stranger. He reminded himself that he needed to open a little, but the action was harder than the sentiment.

"So, don't date," He said it as though it were just that easy. It was what he was doing, after all, and that was going swimmingly. "Not that—" Harlan let out a laugh and finally reached for the jug out of desperation, topping up her own as a courtesy before refilling his. "—I just meant, you've got to draw the line somewhere, yeah?" His gaze narrowed more seriously. He couldn't imagine what he would do if his mother was still setting him up. She did that more discretely those days.

Thankfully, the pizza was delivered with no time for them to dwell on the conversation and Harlan eyed it up. "Let's see if this is as good as you say..." The challenge was intentional.

fin

Roslyn did not have a shy bone in her body, mentally or actually. She felt things like chagrin, embarrassment, and sheepishness but never shyness. She was bold and never hesitant. Didn’t question her motivations or actions overmuch unless she felt like she messed up. Even then, though, she didn’t dwell on things she couldn’t change and looked forward to the things she could control. She’d long understood that while you couldn’t control other people’s actions you could definitely control your own.

She was also quick to pick up friends and strays.

For these reasons, and a thousand more, she didn’t feel like perhaps she was oversharing. In her head she had nothing to hide and this did not seem like personal details so much as the way of things for her. They were facts and they didn’t make her feel a certain way. (Maybe a bit of wistfulness, sometimes, but those were thoughts attached to nostalgia and affection rather than motivated by any current want).

She was an open book except for all the ways that she wasn’t. Free with her affection, very tactile, but with so many barriers in place to protect her pathetically fragile heart. Because she knew herself well, didn’t she? Once she crossed a line in love there wasn’t much going back for her. Her loyalty was interwoven with her feelings at such a deep entanglement that she kept herself restrained from reaching a point there was no backing away from. Her capacity for love was boundless and endless, once, but she had learned that lesson the hard way. Some people, she knew, would never be deserving of that much loyalty and love.

“You don’t know my mother.” she said, a wry twist to her lips as her shoulders dropped. “It doesn’t matter what she wants in the end, though, because she certainly won’t get it. I doubt any of her picks will bare fruit.” But she’d continue this song and dance until her mother gave up. Why? Because she loved her mother and knew her mother wanted, what she mistakenly thought, would profit her only daughter the most. “I’m stubborn.” She confessed. “Conceding feels like losing.” and she did not like to loose, either, so they would be stuck at this impasse until someone gave in. She murmured a small thanks as he topped off her drinks before leaning against the table again.

“Your culinary palette will be ruined forever more.” she goaded. Challenge was, indeed, accepted.

{fin}