Magical Hogwarts

It was two for one margarita night and Lottie had been taking full advantage. The bar was packed to the rafters with city boys gathering for after work room temperature pints and girls pre drinking before hitting the town. The summer was long in the city. It was September but still warm with the last rays of summer still holding steadfast. The doors were open and thankfully so as Charlotte held the two cocktail glasses close to her chest, navigating her way through the bar to get some fresh air with surprising skill. Her mother may be French but her father was English and she'd rather die than spill a drop of alcohol. She'd been trained in the art since she was a teenager.

It was still light outside in London and the people in the bar had overspilled to the pavements outside and she heaved a sigh. This was the thing about this part of the world. People happily queued at pubs for ages to pay an astronomical amount of money for warm beer and then stood outside, without seats, to drink it.

Hanging back by the door, Lottie took a sip of her drink and pulled a face. The lime and orange hit her around the face and the salt on the rim was stuck to her upper lip. She didn't usually make a habit of drinking alone but her friends had since left and she simply did not want to go home yet.

Out of the corner, Lottie saw some people moving and gathering up their belongings and she made a beeline over to them. "Hiya," she greeted them, only slightly wobbling in her high heels. "Are you all going?" She asked with a smile, eyebrows arched in hope and when they said they were, she gave a sigh of relief. "Amazing. Thanks so much."

Only once she'd thrown herself down into the recently vacated wicker chair did she realise who she was sitting next to and her smile widened into a grin. She hadn't seen the Quidditch player in at least six months, maybe even more. She'd almost forgotten what he looked like.  "Hello," she greeted Harlan warmly as his friends exchanged looks. "Anyone would think you've been avoiding me."

@Harlan Bellamy

It was decidedly not Harlan's scene.

But there was something about Summer. The warm evening sun drenched the streets and cut into the chill of any sign of night that threatened to slow them. Harlan shielded his eyes as he took another drink to mirror his mates.  They sprawled the outside corner, their table and chairs jutted into the street as if they owned the place.

And they practically had, he thought, after a few too many. Really, it belonged to the family of his friend's wife -- but nonetheless.

Harlan vaguely noticed the group next to them leaving, but hadn't noticed a familiar face that took their place until her voice cut through the hum of noise around them -- glasses clinking, laughter, lighters sparking -- the sounds of the city.

God damn "Charlotte Bright," Harlan censored himself, his head tilted thoughtfully to study her. From his peripheral, he caught  his friends exchange glances before carrying on conversation. They were used to Harlan being pulled in any direction other than.

"I thought the protective order might've done the trick..." He teased, lifting his pint glass half in her direction. She had a miraculous way of finding him, publicly or privately, but less so as of late. He suspected the spare drink in her hand (plus one implied) had something to do with it.

Harlan didn't look pleased to see her but that only made her grin a little bit wider. In all fairness, her new boyfriend had taken up the vast majority of her time of late so getting out and about wasn't at the top of her priorities. Smartly, she saluted him with her half-empty margarita.

"Aw, don't be like that," Lottie cooed as she placed her drinks - plural - on to the table, her long legs crossed at the knee as her bright eyes gave him the once-over. "That ran out last week," came the quick reply, clearly playing along, though the idea of a real restraining order didn't seem that far-fetched. She offered Harlan another drunken, dimpled smile.

Lottie turned her head to survey his friends absently. They were all rather handsome and polite enough to take a few steps away from them. She heaved a heavy sigh and shook her head, the last of the day's sun picking out the reddish highlights in her shiny hair. She flicked her eyes across to the Quidditch captain.

"You've been left unsupervised?" She asked, nodding towards his friends whose backs were turned discreetly. With another sip of her drink, she settled back into her seat. "How have you been?" Lottie asked politely. "No major scandals since I've seen you last?" She questioned, sucking her drink through a straw noisily.

Harlan's scowl faltered— first in his eyes, eventually his features, his mouth. Of course Charlotte had a quick-witted response to the imaginary order of protection he'd placed. He figured (and just maybe, he was hoping) that she might. "Ah, of course," Harlan nodded with eyebrows raised in something like disbelief.

He had forgotten the particular banter in Charlotte Bright's repertoire. It was... almost, refreshing.

Harlan smiled into his drink before taking a sip as he watched the witch pose her next question. Belatedly, his gaze followed over his shoulder to where she'd indicated to his group of friends— a very few close, the majority acquaintances. Harlan was notorious for keeping a close circle.

"What, like I'd get in trouble?" He didn't have to speak to the irony that the very woman adjacent to him had penned a handful of articles about him, detailing just how he could get himself into trouble. Harlan chuckled, setting down his mug.

"I've been well, busy," He nodded more honestly, then. "Keeping my head down with training, really," He shrugged a shoulder. It was not secret that Harlan had laid low that Summer. Aside from the things Madeline had roped him into, it had been the lowest profile he'd ever held for so long.

Part of him thought the first time he stepped out in the public they might not recognize him. Unfortunately, he was wrong. "And yourself? Keeping quiet too, it seems," He half-smiled.

In another life, Lottie supposed they could have been friends. It might have been fun. However, they'd fallen into this. Not quite a will-they-won't-they but more of a you-annoy-me-I'll-annoy-you-more scenario. Harlan's lack of reaction was maddening and hilarious at the same time. He was unflappable. A journalistic nightmare with tip-top media training. Charlotte couldn't decide if she was besotted with him or disgusted.

Still, she grinned. "Sure," she nodded. "You definitely just walk into the drama," Charlotte cooed as she drank, the fruity little bubbles tickling her nose. "You should come with a warning," she smiled again, her bright eyes glancing over at his friends before flicking them back to Harlan.

Good. Busy. Training, he'd said. Lottie let out a dramatic sigh. "Gosh, you're boring," she announced, though not unkindly. How anticlimactic. Not that she'd ever be expecting Harlan to sing like a canary. There had been nothing. Zilch. Nada. No photos, no sightings, sod all. That usually only meant one of two things - he actually was  busy or he was hiding something.

"Totally," she agreed swiftly. "Cross my heart and hope to die," Charlotte stated as she batted her eyelashes, still slurping her cocktail. "I can't hassle you if you're not doing anything," she reminded Harlan with another sunny smile. "I've been busy too," she admitted. "Got a new boyfriend." There was a pause. "You still chronically single, babe?"

Harlan leaned back against the brick bar front, crossed a leg over the other and faced Lottie more squarely. His eyes narrowed softly at her accusation— how boring indeed.

A grin met where Harlan pulled his pint to his mouth and images of Summer flickered through his mind; California coast, and sand, and a woman who had no fucking clue who he was. The anonymity of it all was what he needed, he figured. It allowed him to train without distraction of the real world. Somewhere where no one knew what Quidditch was, or who Harlan Bellamy was.

"You don't really think... "Harlan paused to place the glass down on the tilted wooden table. He steadied it as he leaned closer to her. "...that of all people, I would tell Charlotte Bright where I escaped to on Summer?" His brow quirked, genuinely curious but also amused. "With that mouth? Whew," He teased, a smile creeping back over his features without his consent.

The grin shifted when she mentioned a new partner— quintessential Charlotte, always trying to get one step ahead. "Oh, and he's real?" He mocked something like shock. "Go on then, who is he? Got a penchant for masochism....?" The second part he said more quietly into his his glass, though loud enough. Charlotte's second question was lost on him.