{two strangers in the bright lights} harlan

Roslyn was having a good day. Though she dearly loved her job she quite enjoyed the quiet and calmness that dominated her days off. As much as she crammed into the week between training and her actual Auror responsibilities her days off became a bit of a unwinding time for her. Not to say she didn't frequently go on long stretches of time between days off sometimes, when she had to work on time-sensitive case. On days off, though, she had this to look forward to. Peace and quiet and the silent hum of her mothers bookshop. This was home to her, and it had little to do because she lived in the apartment upstairs. Scotland was full of lush greenery usually but it was blanketed by snow. The wide floor-to-ceiling windows provided a breathtaking view and most of the other shops in the small village were decorated in lights and wreaths for the holidays.

She'd started the day off with some light cleaning before she set to work with decorating. She figured the vaulted ceiling in the bookshop proper would be perfect for her Christmas tree. This way the patrons of her mothers shop could enjoy some of the festive cheer she was currently enveloped by. Truth was that she thought there was something truly, well, magical about the first snow fall. She'd already had the wreaths up and various strings of twinkling faerie lights surrounded the bookshop. She had blue bell flames encased in glass baubles, with protective enchantments and the unbreakable charm, at different sections of the shop.

The smell of freshly baked sugar cookies permeated the air along with the smell of cider. The soft jingle of festive music filled the small bookshop and made the scene quite homey as the brunette witch focused on placing blue, silver, white, and crystal ornaments on the tree in very specific spots. She was a bit of a control freak when it came to decorating. There was nothing better than doing it when you had cookies to snack on and cider to drink. The snow just added to the whole ambiance of the day.

@Harlan Bellamy

With a pop, Harlan landed in Edinburgh. His time in Scotland was limited so he knew he had to make the most of his final day. Namely, visiting a bookstore he'd been extensively researching in the time leading up. It was his father's birthday later in the week and as much as he wished he could have carried that lightly there was a significagnce— a fucking consuming weight— that he couldn't quite escape.

Every year it was the same. For three siblings who detested their father as much as they claimed, they certainly were competitive about their gift-giving prowess when the time came around. They fought for who could be the most thoughtful, the most extravagant, and ultimately ended up dissecting every otherwise stoic response the man had, late at night, and over a bottle of something after their parents were long asleep.

Audrey, unsurprisingly, historically won their little game, but Harlan was feeling determined.

The spot in Edinburgh was well known for its restorations, and he was after a very unique piece of literature from a wizard in the 1800s— The Trials. He knew he needed to find an original copy and few places carried such luxuries in London. Dropping his hands into his coat, Harlan's gaze narrowed on the storefront that was cast in the late evening light. He knew the store hours yet still, there was a fear it may have been closed earlier so close to the holiday.

Thankfully, the door swung open and a women shuffled out just as he approached. Harlan held open the door with what he thought was a friendly smile but in reality, was likely quite stiff. Inside it was warm. Warm enough that he wanted to immediately shed his layers but thought twice when he remembered he wanted to make his visit as brief and possible. In and out. As he scanned for someone to assist, he caught a familiar, surprising face.

"You've got to be joking," He called out to the witch who had her wand in hand, assembling decorations on an ornate tree in the center of the shop.

Roslyn wasn’t usually surprised to hear familiar voices in her mother’s shop. It happened, quite frequently, but usually it wasn’t a voice she’d so recently met. What were the odds, yea? “Fancy seeing you here!” the brunette witch greeted, bemused. “Can I help you with something?” she asked curiously, more an automatic response than anything else.

Usually the people who walked into the shop were looking for things, after all. It was, indeed, a book shop. And full of rare tomes, too. She lost count of the amount of times her father and brothers brought in a lot of full of freshly in-cursed books for her mother and her to sort through. The assessment portion was always fun as was a restoration on something old.

She nodded towards the tray of cookies sat out on a table and the cider while she finished up the ribbon she was making. “There’s cookies and cider if you’d like.” she offered. “I’m just... sort of finishing up here.” she said sheepishly. There were quite a few things she still wanted to add but the tree was coming along nicely wasn’t it?

He could say the same, Harlan thought. He knew Ros was Scottish— an explanation to the whole traitor business with him having left the Magpies— but in his research of the shop not once did it cross his mind that Hayes would be a connection. It was a common surname after all. And, in truth, he hadn't even remembered it was hers until all of the pieces had come together in those first few moments.

"That's alright, thanks," The blond wizard cast a glance over to the table. Sweets had never really been his thing— peppermint bark the exception— and cider he only liked when it was spiked with something a little strong to cut the chill of winter. "You didn't mention this..." Harlan said it vaguely accusatorily as his eyes shot up the levels and the vastness of it all.

"Auror and a curator," He commented with a faint smile as he brought his eyes back down to her and to the tree she was decorating. "Very festive," Harlan nodded to it and took another step toward the center of the shop. There were a few people milling about but it didn't seem that any required her immediate assistance, anyway.

"I'm after something specific, The Trials?" He ventured. "My extensive research tells me this is Edinburgh's finest restoration resource, so I figured..." He quirked an eyebrow, almost asking the question if it could really hold such a reputation.

Roslyn laughed, delighted, as she glanced at her mother’s shop proudly. “It didn’t seem relevant, what with me unloading my relationship problems on a kind stranger an’ all.” she said wryly, mouth twisted into an impish grin. It struck her as a more personal thing, in a way. Roslyn hoarded the details of her life like a dragon. She traded her thoughts readily enough, of course, but not often on the things she tended to truly care for. Bit of paradox, really. She’d come to realize her rationalizations often would not make sense to anyone but her, though.

“A witch of many talents.” She quipped, her green eyes appraising the man before her. “Best time of the year.” she added with a sigh. Despite many an unfortunate event in her life she’d always welcome the winter season. She remembered loving it as a child and there was really no place like Hogwarts during the holidays. She still remembered the Yule Ball fondly, her first mistletoe kiss. It been years and years, really and Ian and her were still friends but she still held the memory in the fondest of places. Puppy love, really, and it had amounted to very little at the time. Her first required crush. Simple, lovely, and uncomplicated. Sometimes she yearned for that but logic told her adult love was always a more complicated thing to navigate.

A prickle of ire suffused her face as she huffed at Harlan. Not liking his implication at all she sized the larger man up and, uncaring of the meager height difference, lifted her chin up in absolute challenge and made most of the distance between them shrink a considerable amount. “I’m fully confident we are well equipped to meet any and all of your needs.” she said smugly, an air of challenge in her stance and reflected all across her heart shaped face. “Feel free to follow. I think there’s something you might find interesting.” she said mysteriously. She signaled Miriam, who was working on some of the archives at the far end table, before swiftly walking towards the winding staircase. It wouldn’t be a surprise to the girl since she’d taken clients up to check out their special room.

It was tomes that required special attention, be it restoring or just general storage. Most of the books contained within were priceless first editions and quite old. She opened the door and gestured for Harlan to join her as she sidestepped the threshold and let him peer inside. The room was decorated in navy, gold, and silver with constellations and animated shooting stars painting along the vaulted ceilings. Large glass panels lined every inch of space, filled to the brim with books. Two large working tables with chairs made up the center of the room, with various objects littering them and a massive glittering crystal chandelier spelled to look like a bursting star handing overhead. Some of the instruments were silver clenches and mechanisms, a long with many a potion. “Look around.” she said, a proud look in her eye as she glanced around. Arguably her favorite room. There was a plush leather chair sat upon a navy velvet rug tucked away in the corner.

Harlan sized up the level of her confidence. His silvery gaze hadn't quite narrowed enough to match her own, though it was still inquisitive all the same, and bordering amused. It was nice to have a conversation with a bit of wit behind it. So frequently he was beholden to small talk and the same questions over and over and over again, so it was a relief to do partake in something other than with someone still deemed something of a stranger.

"Well, there's only the one thing I find interesting," The wizard stated despite the fact that his feet had involuntarily already pulled him after Roslyn as she made her way toward the staircase that he'd spotted upon arriving. His eyes followed her to where she gestured to another woman who was either a fellow employee or entirely too comfortable as a customer, then flicked back ahead to Ros. She had an unmistakable air about her that made it hard to avoid for too long.

The duo ascended in what felt like no time but Harlan figured it was because he was so distracted by taking the place in along the way. It was the book store equivalent to every single childhood dream he ever had— and apparently, it was only getting better. The room Ros had drawn him toward was closed off from the rest of the shop and decidedly more precious as evidenced by the numerous pieces of literature he noticed sprawled around them in various stages of refurbishment.

"Wow," Harlan couldn't help himself. A quiet sigh escaped his lips despite himself as he took it all in. "Alright, I do find this interesting," He conceded with a knowing grin in her direction, taking a step toward the working tables in the middle of the domed room that seemed to open up into the very sky itself.

“Not that I know you well enough but I didn’t peg you as someone short of ... interests.” she replied, challenge not in any way gone from her voice. Meeting a challenge (or a challenging man) head on was something she couldn’t quite resist. Where most people took cautious steps when facing confrontation she delved deeper into it. She recognized that the conversation was suddenly being held on two different wavelengths, of course, and just refused to back down from any of it.

Let it not be said Roslyn Hayes was a coward for she faced most things with a hard headed stubborn recklessness inherent in most Gryffindors. Her reaction to injury - be it literally or figuratively - was to bear down and fight back. She paid little regard to how she came out at the end, usually, which was why she was always so careful with entanglements.

Instinct told her Harlan would challenge that, in several different ways.

A pleased, affectionate grin lit up her face as she studied the man’s reaction to the restoration room. “I’d have been disappointed in you if ye didn’t.” she admitted, her gaze flickering upwards as she took in the room. She quite enjoyed the theme, though her mother hadn’t seen the point in decorating at first. A place that held such things should be properly outfitted, she had argued and then eventually she had gotten her way. It helped that this could be a spot used to impress their more tricky customers. Not very many people could afford what was held behind the glass, though.

She didn’t expect Harlan to pick up on it but the shop itself had quite the formidable wards. It helped, of course, that they happened to have three curse breakers and an Auror with high enough clearance to make that happen in the family. This room, in particular, held the main ward stone. The intricate rotating galaxies and exploding stars disguised a blinding web of bright ward magic that resembled wisps of fairy light when activated. It pulsed and hummed with ambient magic and gave the room more gravitas, in her humble opinion.

“We have some early history over here.” she murmured, heading towards a glass case at the very back of the room. “I’m pretty sure there’s a limited first account edition, with some notations on the margins.” she said thoughtfully, eyes scanning the glass. The reason it was still in this room, on top of being ridiculously expensive, was because she hadn’t quite finished restoring it. The cover has been treated with a special potion already and the leather looked buttery soft and gleaming. The gold lettering stood out, as well as the golden filigree she’d painstakingly retraced. The gold leafing match the cover perfectly. “I’m still going through the page notation. Part of me wanted to erase it but I think the accounts add a little more value to it.” Plus who was she to delete history? “I guess I could do either, but that rather depends on the buyer.” she’d be disappointed but some people preferred their things pristine.

Harlan's gaze eventually tore away from the vastness of the ceiling overhead that seemed to suck him in the more he stared. His eyes flicked down to Roslyn then following to where she had mentioned early history. He landed on the book encapsulated by the glass and seemingly emanating a white glow. It was all very relaxing to be even some small part of, he thought, not realizing that he had followed her closer without a second thought.

"I agree," He commented distractedly, studying where there were scribbled annotations splashed across the cream-colored pages. "Merlin, why would you ever leave this room?" Harlan turned Roslyn to look at her, his voice was again vaguely accusatory. He didn't mean it literally, of course, more on a professional level. If he had a family who owned something like it, he was sure that quidditch would have been only a small blip on his radar.

The silver of Harlan's eyes was sparkingly from the dim light around them and he watched her profile for a moment before turning to take a step toward the shelving that lined the walls. "I'm to guess The Trials is somewhere around here?" He assumed good-naturedly. "Or are you just showing off?" He looked over his shoulder to her with a grin. Not that he would blame her if she was, he would have done the very same if the shoe were on the other foot.

“It’s hard to leave sometimes.” she admitted quietly. She just wasn’t ready to retire, though. Didn’t think she ever would be, really. There was something tremendously satisfying in her job. It just wasn’t ... time yet she supposed. She could see it for herself eventually, of course, and the shop would be essentially hers once she was ready for it to be. Not even her mother was warped enough to dangle something her daughter loved so clearly as a figurative carrot. “It’s nice to come home and be able do this if I can’t wind down, though.” another admission. She really needed to measure her words a bit better around Harlan. Still she felt a level of satisfaction he agreed with her.

She didn’t know him enough to understand how appreciative her really was. No way for her to know that he really did appreciate the book shop as much as it deserved. Only a special few understood a true love of books. Less, even, when those books were as old as some of these were. For her there was something fascinating about holding what was essentially a piece of history. Thoughts, feelings, emotions, and events recorded so that future generations could have a small glimpse into the life and times of something long past.

Words survived long after the mind that uttered them turned to dust.

Glancing back at Harlan she couldn’t help but notice his ridiculously pretty the mans eyes were. The lighting was really working in his favor. She blinked, feeling vaguely off quilter for a moment, before refocusing on the inquiry. “Both of those can be true.” she said as she laughed, ignoring her previous thoughts. Best not to dwell overmuch. “Where do you think it would be, if we had it?” she asked, her fingers coming up to brush along her mouth in an effort to keep the rest of her chuckles from surfacing.

With a shake of his head, Harlan glanced around the room to where the book he was in search of may or may not have been located. The most infuriating bit was Roslyn's smugness— he hated being left in the dark figuratively speaking. "Hmm," The wizard hummed a thought aloud from somewhere in the back of his throat while finally shrugging off his coat and draping it over of the back of one of the deep-colored velvet armchairs.

"I could just—" He brandished his sleek mahogany wand from the pocket of his slacks and ran it over the back of his knuckles. He was sure a simple summoning spell would be lost in whatever magic barriers the room held, but the threat bought him a little bit of time to get his thoughts together.

Harlan paused, gauged her reaction, and then stowed his wand away again. "Not so fun, though, is it?" He decided as if it had been a decision made solely by him regardless of the circumstance. "Well, clearly it's not renowned enough to be behind glass..." His eyes fixated on the early year's work which Ros still stood beside before flicking back to her in search of some signal, a falter, that would help him in his search. One slip of the eyes was all he needed.

"And nothing here is alphabetized..." He carried off plainly, having noticed that when he first got there— a painful reminder of his attention to detail in almost every situation. Taking another step to Ros, his eyes narrowed on her, finding his opportunity to distract her enough to get a clue.

Harlan entered her vicinity in a way that shouldn't have felt as comfortable as it did. There was something that he enjoyed about making people squirm a little bit. It was only when he was just close enough to feel the heat emanating from her being that he caught her eyes as they darted to a separate section of novels over his shoulder. Lingering just a moment longer, he grinned. "Aha," Then it was his turn to be smug, he thought.

Roslyn's green eyes tracked the wizards movements, eyes roving over his figure, before settling on the discarded coat. Her gaze did not settle there for long, however, as her attention shifted back towards Harlan as he brandished his wand. She fought to control her own reaction at that, fingers twitching at her side, as she huffed a breath. There was always a certain level of adrenaline that occurred, and sometimes it was difficult to control her muscle reflex. Part of her felt the need to point out it wouldn't be a very good idea for him to try to summon anything. That would be a sure-fire way to trip the wards. Actually might as well warn him, yea? "I'd... not." she cautioned, staring the wizard down. Her lips were drawn up in a smile, but there was a tenseness to her eyes that delivered a more serious caution in her tone.

Everything about Roslyn Hayes was playful and relaxed, under normal circumstance. For someone who enjoyed skirting around danger as much as she did those traits were quite rare indeed. She took great delight in cloaking the layers of her interests and desires underneath a mild and genial manner. She very rarely dropped it, with very few exceptions. Dangerous situations, of course, warranted it sometimes. As much as she found the thought of Harlan tripping the bookshops wards exhilarating she was also aware that the desire was roused due to a combination of morbid curiosity steeped in a healthy dose of the flight or fight response.

It was a curious thing that the wizard before her set off certain alarm bells in her head. She wasn't even quite sure why. He seemed harmless enough, in a way only normal people could be, so she wasn't sure why there was a thrilling sense at baiting him. The urge to taunt and tease was there, barely held back, as she focused on maintaining a professional and disinterested air.

"It wouldn't be very fun at all." she finally agreed, her lips unfurling into a grin. "Not every sorting needs to be alphabetical. It just needs to make sense to the organizer." she said, eyes glittering in enjoyment. As the wizard before her took another step toward her she took a moment to stare right back into his eyes. There was a challenge on her own face, she was sure, from the defiant jut to her plush mouth, all the way up to her the tilt of her neck. Her whole body posture was taunting. There was one tense moment where there was silence as they continued to stare at each other. Just a split second of tension before everything dissolved as Harlan glanced away at the books over her shoulder.

The gig was up, then. Why was she so disappointed all of a sudden?

Harlan considered it for a moment— a calculation in the chaos that made sense only to the curator— though, he didn't do well to hide his hesitation. As with most things, he looked at the idea in black and white. There was order and there was disorder categorically speaking, nothing in between. "Hmm, not quite sure about that..." He added for good measure as if the look on his face hadn't already said enough, but his voice was softer than before.

There was an air of tension between them that shouldn't have been surprising considering it had been exactly what he had been angling for. Get her just enough off-balance, spot the sign of weakness, and voila. It was a cruel tactic perfected in his many years on the pitch that had often carried over into his personal life as much as he didn't like to admit it.

"Over here, then?" Harlan grinned over his shoulder, terribly smug, after having eventually turned away from her. The absence of the warmth of how close he had been to her nearly sent a shiver down his spine before he thought better than to allow it. Gesturing to the shelf to his right, he made a few deliberate steps toward it as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt a quarter of the way up to his forearms.

"There must be a trick to it..." He nearly asked as he ran his fingers softly over the spines of a few books, trying to make sense of the organization of the novels. They weren't alphabetized by author, and certainly not by title, but there had to be some sort of sense in it. There was an entire wall from floor to ceiling that he was going to have to search otherwise, and he figured that Roslyn wasn't going to make it easy for him— not after what he'd just pulled. "Do I get a hint?" He ventured, uncharacteristically optimistic.

“Mm.” She murmured, blinking innocently and slowly, refusing to respond with actual words but feeling like he’d won at least some level of affirmation. It reminded her briefly of an owl hunting a a fox. But predator and prey could easily be flipped in such cases. It all depended on the element of surprise and where they odd lay.

Despite how close he was, he was still at a distinct disadvantage. She wouldn’t make this easy, even if she ended up loosing. She was loath to loose and refused to show weakness. Not even for a pair of fine eyes like his.

Time to flip the wand right? If he thought he could distract her with his closeness and not pay for it, well, he’d learn soon enough. The brunette wasted no time to close the distance again, crowding up against him and the book case he had selected. She didn’t bother glancing at anything but him, refusing to give him an advantage at this point. “What do I get if I give you a hint, mm?” she asked, leaning further against the bookcase and crossing her arms at her chest. She could feel his presence like a gentle caress. For one worrying moment she contemplated taking a step back, fretting that she was quite a bit too much into his personal space, before bullheaded stubbornness settled in and she refused to budge.

Bollocks to that. If anyone was retreating it would be Harlan.

In his peripheral vision, Harlan could see that Roslyn had started toward the bookshelf, and toward him by proxy, but he kept his focus firmly on the titles before him. The wall was seemingly endless, still with no sign of rhyme or reason. His dedication to finding the novel on his own was both an attempt to keep himself busy and to prove himself as correct.

The witch didn't stop at a normal distance though, instead, she took another deliberate one beside him so that he could feel how close she was again. It was clear what was doing— more attempting to do— and a grin pulled at the corner of his lips. His eyes following belatedly to look sideways at her, eyebrow slightly quirked in question. She had to have expected that using his own tactic against him wasn't going to work in her favor. Particularly when he was the one trying to make the transaction.

"A couple hundred of my galleons, to start," Harlan's eyes narrowed on Ros briefly, trying not to linger on the thoughtful sound that she had made. If she thought she was hard-headed, she had another thing coming when it came to the level that he was willing to go to in order to be right.

A pout was starting to form along her lips at the sheer level of, well, non distraction occurring. If this was a normal sort of exchange with a friend she knew exactly what she would do. Flirt shamelessly and drape herself all over them, to start. She knew how to make contact quite distracting, thank you very much. Fact was she just... did not know Harlan that way. She wasn’t sure if he’d take the tactile manner in which she held herself with friends as a different sort of invitation.

(Wasn’t sure herself if the lines wouldn’t blur. There were moments where she questioned quite a few of her motives with men who were closer to her than perhaps they ought. That kind of thinking led to madness and she was quite content with not examining those thoughts and just quietly tucking them away, instead)

Point was that she couldn’t just grope the man in the middle of her mother’s bookshop. That’s how you got brought up on harassment charges. It was important to know ones audience. Most of her distraction methods were... not appropriate for the audience was the problem. But she couldn’t bloody loose! Giving up wasn’t an option.

Still. His response was rather insulting. She raised her own eyebrow in response, letting the silence rest before speaking. “I need more incentive than the price any other interested party would end up paying for the book.” She quipped, smiling cheekily at the man in front of her. It was true, of course. “Didn’t take you for a quitter, Bellamy.” she added, eyes sparkling merrily.

Even if she couldn’t win this, she’d still try.