Here's a one-shot I wrote way back. It's a Huma Hairspray AU, and it was originally on Wattpad as a Surprise AU on my book Hooked For Good. However, I really wanted to move it to so I can take it out of the book :D enjoy! Disclaimer: I do not own Descendants or the lyrics from Hairspray's Without Love (PS VERY HEAVY REFERENCE TO RACE IN THIS. it takes place in 1962)
The year was 1962. The setting was Baltimore, Maryland. While many viewed it as a city of opportunity, everyone knew that it was socially progressing slower than some would prefer. Then again, when it came to segregation, the entire country was moving at a painfully slow pace. There was also a very peculiar thing about this town: rhyming. There were often moments when people would start rhyming their words as if they were scripted for them in a rhythmless song. No one questioned it; they just went along with it. It made for great commentary.
Onto the story. In a quiet, picture-perfect, primarily Caucasian neighborhood, the sound of an angry father broke the comfortable silence.
"Harrison James Hook! You are absolutely, positively, permanently punished!" scolded the hoarse voice of retired Captain James Hook as he tied his only son to the twin sized bed. Harry obediently remained still and silent as his father roughly finished the last knot, digging the rope ever so tightly into Harry's skin. He had to admit, his father was astonishingly thorough. He'd bound Harry's hands behind his back and his ankles together before tying the rest of him to the bed. Escape was impossible, for the only thing Harry could move was his neck and head.
"I blame all of this on that...that race music!" Captain Hook spat resentfully, and Harry rolled his eyes behind his thick-rimmed glasses. His father was a notorious conservative in his social views. In other words, he's a racist. Harry, on the other hand, was all for integration, and he'd even been invited to a platter party on North Avenue with some of his friends. He'd found great company among the people there, even if they did have a different skin tone.
There was one girl in particular...
Harry tried to suppress the warmth in his face as he thought of her. Everything about her seemed to hypnotize him. The swagger in her step, the sass in her voice as she only spoke the truth, the way she always carried an alluring aroma of the sea. It wasn't hard to see the young American Scot was smitten, but he knew his father would never approve. He was already upset that Harry was involved in an integration protest. If he found out Harry had feelings for this girl, he'd face the unwelcoming end of his father's hook-prosthetic.
"But Dad, they're not as bad as you make them out to be," Harry countered, although he knew he should have kept his mouth shut. As expected, Captain Hook pointed his shining hook right at Harry's face, and the ladder audibly gulped in fear.
"Don't you contradict me," Captain Hook warned, waiting another moment to ensure his son received the message before stepping away and walking over to the record player. The needle of the player resembled Captain Hook's faux-hand. He placed a forty-five onto the player and moved the needle over. The sounds of soft, slow piano music filled the room, and Captain Hook smiled blissfully.
"And now," he said proudly, swaying his hands loosely like a conductor. "Some music created by the right kind of people."
Harry had a permanent scowl etched into his features as Captain Hook took his leave, probably to drink himself into mania. His father's resistance to change really got on Harry's nerve, especially when it came to racism. On top of that, Harry didn't like his father's mentality of 'I am this way, therefore it is right.' It even translated into his parenting. Captain Hook picked Harry's clothes, Harry's classes, and Harry's friends. Harry was sick and tired of it, but he had no way of expressing it because his father taught him to suppress all forms of fiery emotion. Even so, if looks could kill, Captain Hook would've dropped dead before he could have left the room.
Left alone, Harry's mind wandered back to the girl he'd met in school. He knew of her before they'd met, for he'd seen her in her monthly appearances on the Louis Lumière Show–a popular dance show run by a charismatic Frenchman. She was practically a celebrity. Harry peered at his own appearance from under his glasses. Beneath the ropes, he was wearing a white collared shirt under a red-and-black plaid vest with a matching bow-tie. His shoes were clean, white sneakers, and his khakis were held up by hidden red suspenders (which he sometimes let dangle at his hips, but his father could never know that). Overall, he looked the part of the clumsy nerd people made him out to be. Now let's do the math: Beautiful celebrity. Clumsy nerd. It never worked out like that. Bring in the skin tone factor, and he had no chance.
Harry laid his head on his pillow and submissively closed his eyes. He felt his foot tap anxiously against the end of the bed frame, and he knew his nervous twitches were coming back. They were enabled by his father's perfect standards, and the only way Harry had been able to sedate them was by constantly having a lollipop in his mouth. Sure, his dentist didn't like it, but it kept Harry from becoming a walking earthquake. With his body bound, Harry couldn't reach the stash of candy he kept under his bed. He chewed on his lip as his ankle grew sore but continued to tap against the wood. This was going to be a long night.
Harry's eyes snapped open at the sound of his window latch breaking off. The cool evening air caused goosebumps to appear on his arms, but those goosebumps intensified when Harry looked up and caught sight of the exact dark-skinned girl he'd been fawning over crawling in through the window. Her teal braids were tied up in a ponytail atop her head, and she wore a black-and-grey letterman-style jacket over a teal polo. No matter how many times he saw her, it took his breath away every time. Not to mention his room was on the second floor, yet she still managed to sneak in so effortlessly. What a gem!
"Seaweed?" Harry whispered in disbelief, afraid his father would hear even the softest noise despite the piano music and his guaranteed drunken state at this late hour. However, Harry mentally kicked himself when he saw her expression fall into an annoyed frown.
"Really Harry? Seaweed?" she asked distastefully, but Harry didn't have an answer for her. She started talking to no one in particular, but Harry felt awkward as the only other person in the room. "First Shrimpy, and now Seaweed is actually catching on. We get it, people! I smell like the ocean."
Harry felt embarrassed that she knew his name, but he couldn't recall anything except for his friends calling her Seaweed. Even on the show, she either went by Seaweed or–much to her disapproval–Shrimpy. Unable to remember her actual name, he muttered, "I'm sorry."
"It's fine," she sighed, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her grey jeans. "It's not your fault that I'm televised under a pseudonym. My real name is Uma, by the way." Harry was still struck speechless by her presence alone, and hearing her talk to him was ethereal. He hung on her every word. The air between them was silent save for the quiet piano tunes and his tapping foot, but he didn't realize he was staring like a fool until she said with a sheepish smile, "Go on, say it."
"Uh..." Harry muttered, finally gathering his composure before repeating her name in a quiet voice. "Uma?"
"You can say it louder," she chuckled, but Harry quickly shushed her.
"Don't let my father hear you," he warned her urgently. "He's punishing me for protesting segregation without permission."
"Oh yeah, that's a problem," she stated matter-of-factly as she examined the tight restraints. "Even so, I gotta hand it to ya. It was pretty brave of you to march with us despite your father's reputation." She smiled warmly at him, but he didn't catch on to the fact that she was just as taken with him as he was with her. When they'd met that previous afternoon, something clicked in Uma's heart. She knew the heart could never be wrong, even when the head knew the consequences.
Harry threw his head back onto his pillow and groaned, "Yeah, it sucks."
A flash of remembrance crossed Uma's features before she rummaged through her jacket pockets. "That reminds me," she mumbled as she reached inside the lapel of her jacket, still searching for whatever she was looking for. Eventually, she produced a neatly-wrapped red lollipop. Harry's eyes widened at the life-saving candy, but Uma was nonchalant as she explained, "I brought you a sucker. I noticed you always had one of these at my mother's party, so I dropped by a candy shop on my way here."
Harry was suddenly made painfully aware of how much his calf was cramping from his nervous ticks. Keeping the desperation out of his voice, he half-pleaded, "Can I have that now please?"
Uma eyed him curiously with a hint of amusement in her smirk, but she nonetheless pulled off the plastic wrapping and sat beside him on the edge of the bed before poking the red lollipop into his mouth. Almost instantly, the feverish tapping ceased as Harry sighed through his nose, but not without Uma noticing. She quirked an eyebrow at his relief ridden expression and inquired with concern laced in her voice, "Why do you always eat those things anyway?"
Harry pushed the hard candy into his cheek and explained, "They help ease my nerves, so I don't twitch as much."
"So you eat them a lot?" she guessed, and he nodded. She undoubtedly cared about him, and she felt a pitfall in her stomach at the thought of this boy going through that much pressure. Trying to lighten the mood, she playfully joked, "All those suckers must make the muscles in your mouth mighty strong."
Even after Uma flicked her eyebrows up in suggestion, Harry didn't pick up on her whimsical attempt to flirt. Instead, he shook his head in uncertainty and replied, "Nah, they're probably just average."
Uma pressed her lips into a flat line, somewhat disappointed by his cluelessness, but still intrigued by his innocence. Something like that was rare nowadays, and it was one of the many things she loved about him.
"What're you doing here anyway?" Harry asked, cutting Uma from her thoughts.
She shrugged her shoulders and answered, "I would say I've come to rescue the fair maiden, but you're a guy and–" she leaned in closer, bracing a forearm atop his chest and using the same hand to flick his neck garment "–you're wearing a plaid bow tie. So, I'll say I'm here to rescue the decent laddie."
She tried at a mock-accent on her last words, and Harry quirked an eyebrow in question. "Are you making fun of my accent?" he asked, and he would've been offended had she not been so close to him. His voice cracked when he spoke, and he could feel his face burning like a moth nearing the flame.
"Maybe," she replied, emphasizing the syllables. Her signature scent of salty sea air invaded Harry's senses, and he could barely focus on the raspberry flavor of his lollipop. He tried shuffling it in his mouth more, but Uma was peeved by the sound of it knocking around. Using her free hand, she plucked the lollipop from his lips and used that forearm to frame his head. She wasn't so much sitting on the edge of the bed anymore as she was kneeling with one knee while the other foot was on the ground. Their faces were inches apart.
Harry felt like his heart was about to burst through his chest from the strength and speed of its palpitating. He didn't know that Uma's was the same, but she was much better at hiding it behind a dangerous smirk. Uma lifted her hand from his chest to the side of his face, gliding her fingers across his jaw, and Harry swallowed hard. He was brimming with...fear? Excitement? He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was definitely new.
Uma hooked his glasses away with her thumb and swiftly brought her lips to his. Harry didn't register the blurred image in time and was caught off guard by the sudden pressure on his mouth. After a brief moment, he let his unseeing eyes shut, and he began to kiss back. He let Uma be his guide since it was his first kiss. It was small and simple, but it spoke a million words.
When they parted, Uma pulled his glasses back over his eyes at a crooked angle and popped the sucker back in his mouth, which was left agape at what just happened. Uma folded her arms over his chest and placed her chin on top of them while staring at him with a fond smile. When Harry collected his bearings, he sighed dreamily, "Oh Uma, you do care."
Uma chuckled and nodded her head, biting her lip, and Harry cracked a small smile at her. He'd just kissed his dream girl, his television fantasy, and she initiated it. Nerd, celebrity–who gives a damn! She didn't care about forbidden labels; she liked him for him. Despite his joy, there was still a world of reasons why they couldn't be together. His expression fell, and Uma's faltered in reaction to it. Harry voiced his concern, "But aren't you worried we'll be kept apart by–?"
"By what, Harry?" she cut in, moving from her spot on the bed to kneel on the ground next to where his head was. There was an edge to her tone, and her grin had faded into a determined frown. "Skin tone? Harry, I couldn't care less about that. I knew when I first saw you that even the colors of our skin couldn't keep us apart."
Harry was lost for words. She was like a goddess among mortals in his mind. Her powerful dark eyes were like a blazing pyre, scorching into his, but he couldn't help but keep staring. So what if he burns? She could lead to his destruction, and he'd feel blessed beyond belief.
While he imagined her as a deity he'd follow to the ends of the earth, she saw him as the little bit of hope she needed. She knew she'd always be judged based on appearance, but Harry reminded her that even a lineage of racism can break if people would actually take the time to think on their own. Even though Harry was under his father's strict rule, he had his own thoughts and ideals. That's what made him special.
Uma reached for the knot closest to her and tugged with all her strength. No matter how hard she pulled at the ropes, they wouldn't budge. Sounding defeated, she admitted, "But these knots might." She tried tugging one more time before asking incredulously, "Was your dad in the Navy?"
"Actually, yes," Harry deadpanned in reply. Uma's fingers ached as she continued to futilely pull at the knot, but she suddenly froze at the sound of glass shattering below them. Harry's eyes were wide in fear, and keeping his voice low, he urgently informed her, "Uh oh, my dad's finished his first drink. Hurry!"
He grew apprehensive at the thought of his drunk of a father walking in on him with Uma right now. He'd be furious with him, and Harry would probably never see the light of day. Captain Hook would also hunt Uma down like Gaston hunts for his dinner. Harry's fearful state only worsened as his thoughts escalated towards the worse case scenario, but he was suddenly calmed by a soft hand delicately placed on his arm. His eyes darted back to Uma and landed on a handle in her hand which bore a design of an octopus attacking a pirate ship from beneath the waves. Harry was impressed by her confident demeanor in such a situation, but he was even more impressed when she flicked a blade out of the decorated handle.
And that's when it began: the rhyming.
"Living in the ghetto, black is everywhere you go," Uma pondered as she began to cut the ropes holding Harry down. He sat up after she released his torso and moved to cut the ropes around his legs and ankles. As she worked, she continued with a bashful smile, "Who'da thought I'd love a boy with skin as white as winter snow."
Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed, relieved to be free of his bounds. While Uma kneeled beside him to cut the ropes on his wrists, Harry began his own rhyme.
"In my ivory tower, life was just a Hostess snack," Uma chuckled at his verse. What is it with this boy and sweets? She folded her knife and shoved it in her pocket before settling beside him, looking into his mesmerizing blue eyes. Harry rubbed the red lines on his wrists before adding, "But now I've tasted chocolate..." He took her by surprise when he pulled her into his lap bridal style. Uma gave him an enthralled smirk, impressed by his sudden and bold action. He only increased her astonishment when he took his lollipop from his mouth and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Uma reached up to cup the side of his face as he finished his declaration, "...and I'm never going back!"
"'Cause without love," Uma said, finding the words from deep in her heart. She was a dancer, of course, so she knew how to explain this. "Life is like a beat that you can't follow."
"Without love," Harry repeated, standing up while still carrying her in his arms. He wasn't a dancer, but he was an admirer of the arts, so he said, "Life is Doris Day at the Apollo."
"That would be hilarious," Uma cut in, imagining the 'White as white bread' actress at the theatre in Harlem.
Harry furrowed his eyebrows and mumbled dejectedly, "C'mon, we had a nice thing going."
"Right, sorry," said Uma, who was playing around with his bow tie until it eventually turned undone. "Continue."
He didn't seem to notice as he spun around and praised, "Darlin' I'll be yours forever 'cause I never wanna be..." He stopped spinning and set Uma down on his bed, still staying close by as he knelt on the bed similar to as she had done earlier. She couldn't help but giggle like a fool, and it sounded like music to his ears. "...without love," he whispered.
"So darling, never set me free," Uma rhymed, interlacing her fingers with his.
Knowing his glasses would get in the way, he slid them off and shot her a goofy grin as he insisted, "I'm yours forever."
"Never set me free," Uma repeated, the space between slowly closing. They kissed again, but since Harry had already learned the basics, he chose to take the reigns this time. It did help that Uma was right about his mouth being crazy strong from years of lollipops because it was the best kiss she ever shared.
Their lip-locking was abruptly cut short by the sound of another glass bottle shattering on the ground. Harry growled in a short burst of anger and stood up. His father had forced him to be a passionless observer his whole life, and now that Harry was actually feeling emotions–joy, anger, love, want, etc–and acting on them, his father was interrupting it. He strode to the door, tripping over the corner of the bed and a discarded shoe which he couldn't see without his glasses, and placed a nearby chair under the doorknob. Once he was sure the door wouldn't budge, he whirled around and started to walk back to the bed, only to trip over a discarded forty-five and fall flat on his face. Nothing was severely hurt, but Harry's pride was definitely bruised. He heard Uma's worried voice from atop the mattress, "Harry, are you okay?"
Harry pushed himself onto his knees and tried to focus on the blurry image of the girl he loved. His impaired vision, the leering knowledge of his father downstairs, and his constricting clothing made breathing difficult. He tugged off his vest and undid the first few of his shirt before replying, "I'm fine, just a little stuffy in here."
"You sure?" she warned cautiously, sitting up against the headboard. "You got a crazy look in your eyes." She hadn't actually taken in his face without the glasses until now, but he was quite the looker. Sharp jaw, defined cheekbones, and the way his hair curled perfectly where the hairspray couldn't keep it in place. Get rid of the dorky vest, and Uma felt like she won the lottery. While she knew better than anyone not to judge the book by its cover, she also respected admiring the cover after the book's been read. She never thought she'd fall for a guy in suspenders either, but Harry made it work.
"It's just..." Harry began to explain, but he trailed off as he lost his words. He ground his teeth in anger at his father, an overwhelming sensation he'd never truly experience before. Another growl escaped his throat, only heightening his rage. He relished in it, for it meant disobeying the lifestyle Captain Hook chose for him.
Uma picked up on his inner struggle and conceded, "Never mind, don't worry about it. Just c'mere."
Suddenly relaxed by the idea of being close to her, he didn't waste time walking around the bed and instead pushed himself up onto the foot of the bed from where he sat. He groped around the comforter, still unable to make out distinct shapes, until his hand found the warm skin of her ankle. He followed the path of her leg, making sure not to make her uncomfortable as he blindly crawled over her. She wasn't discomforted at all. In fact, she was watching with a euphoric mix of amusement and adoration. She eyed his glasses on the nightstand and decided to let this continue until he actually needed them. For now, he was doing just fine on his own, and his hand eventually made it to her waist. His eyes were squeezed shut to avoid focussing too hard and getting a headache, and Uma found herself missing his blue eyes.
"Hurry it up," she demanded playfully, taking the opportunity to mess with him. "Boy, if I can't touch you now, I'm gonna lose control."
Caught off guard by her bold statement, Harry stumbled, his legs went weak, and his head gracelessly fell onto her chest. His face turned beet red, and any incoherent apology he tried to say was drowned out by her delighted laughter. Harry beamed at her despite not being able to see her in detail, but he was close enough that he could see her beautiful smile. He pushed himself up so he could rest his forehead against hers, and she brought her hands to either side of his jaw, moving them back and running her fingers up into his hair. He absolutely melted into her touch, sighing blissfully at the sensation.
"I'm guessing that feels good, huh?" she gushed, her breath feeling warm against his face.
His smile served as an affirmative answer to her question. He brought one hand up to her face, dancing his thumb across her cheek as he whispered poetically, "Uma, you're my black-white-knight. I've found my blue-eyed soul."
She tried so hard not to giggle at his meaningful words, but she really struggled. Out in the world, she was a strong and independent voice for those who were too afraid to speak. She kept up her walls, so the opposing faction of racists and bigots never thought they could truly break her. Harry was different. She could let her guard down with him, and it wasn't until this night that she really understood why. Love is strange, that's for sure.
Speaking of the enemy faction of racists and bigots, the thought of her and Harry being separated because of the interracial nature of their relationship sat heavy in the back of her mind. She knew she wouldn't be able to love Harry without the two of them being ridiculed. Then again, she also didn't actually care about what others thought about her life.
Harry couldn't see the slight falter in her expression, but Uma felt the need to put her anxiety into words. "Sweet freedom is our goal."
They were a hair's width apart, and Harry's lips brushed hers as he sighed, "Oh Uma."
"Oh Harry," she replied before he smashed his lips onto hers again. All thoughts of the world outside left their minds. All that mattered was their own little private space. Uma slid down so she was laying flat. Harry kept his hands on either side of her head and deepened the kiss while her hands remained in his hair. Harry's mind was racing, millions of things he'd always thought of as taboo now feeling so right. If sweet freedom was their goal, then Harry reached his take on it. He was free just by being with her.
Both of them were so lost in each other that they didn't notice when the door slammed open.
"Oh God!" choked out an enraged, red-faced Captain Hook with a bottle in hand. The teenagers finally stopped making out and looked at him like deer in the headlights. Harry had to squint to see, but he knew by the voice that his father broke in. He thought he'd secured the door, but then again, he's pretty much blind. He probably messed it up.
"Run!" Harry exclaimed before hastily getting off the bed and pulling Uma with him. Uma made sure to grab his glasses as the pair bolted for the window. Harry ushered Uma out first as his dad stumbled over, tripping over the chair that was supposed to block the door. Uma shimmied down the piping along the side of his house, and Harry was on his way out when he felt a painful strike against his back. He felt liquid seeping through his shirt and figured his dad threw the bottle, but he ignored it as he followed Uma to the ground. Surely his dad was aiming for Uma, but Harry was more than happy to take the hit.
Once they were together again, Uma slid the glasses onto his face, and the darkness of night finally focused into defined objects. From above, they heard Captain Hook shout, "A black girl's got my son!"
"C'mon," Uma advised Harry through her rebellious laughter. She grabbed his hand and started running with Harry in tow. "Let's get outta here."
They ran for a few minutes before their adrenaline faded, and they slowed to an easy walk. Harry's back stung, and he knew there must've been specks of glass in the cuts, but he didn't mention it. He didn't want this happy moment to be over just yet. Their hands remained interlaced, gently swinging back and forth as the couple laughed together over the most random topics of conversation. Eventually, they went back to their musing on what life without love is.
"Life is like a Cotillion that won't invite us," Uma offered bitterly. The irony in that is Cotillion was run by that self-proclaimed group of the 'Nicest Kids in Town.' Neither of them were invited to Cotillion, Uma because of her skin color, and Harry because he 'wasn't cool enough.' Needless to say, Uma still held a grudge about it.
"It's like facing down a croc who wants to bite us," Harry added, squeezing her hand to remind her that they didn't need anyone else if they had each other. He just wanted to keep her smiling, and his remark about a crocodile actually managed to bring her grin back. Truth be told, crocodiles terrified Harry. It was his turn to start the rhyme, and he went with, "Life's a forty-five when you can't buy it."
"Life is like my mother," Uma was quick to respond, shaking her head like the thought was ridiculous. "On a diet."
Ah, yes. Everyone knew Ursula was not afraid to throw her weight around. Pound by pound by pound.
"Like a week that's only Mondays," said Uma, cringing at the thought of being in special ed seven days a week instead of five.
"Only ice cream, never sundaes," Harry pitched, and Uma quirked an eyebrow at him.
"What is it with you and sugary, sweet things?" she asked curiously. "Suckers, hostess, chocolate, ice cream–You got yourself one hell of a sweet tooth."
"Well," he said slyly, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. "I guess we can go ahead and add you to the list, eh."
Uma giggled again and turned away, and even though Harry couldn't see it with the night-time lighting, he knew she was blushing. Right then, they finally walked up to Uma's house, which also happened to be her mother's shop. They didn't want to go in just yet, so they meandered over to an alleyway and continued their back and forth.
"Like a circle with no center," said Harry as he placed his hands over her waist. She folded her hands behind his neck, and they stood there, just gazing at each other lovingly.
"Like a door marked 'Do Not Enter,'" Uma replied, speaking from experience. She'd faced plenty of those in her lifetime.
After a long pause, Harry swallowed hard and said for the first time, "I love you, Uma." Her face flushed at his upfront confession, and he went on, "You've captured me."
"I love you too, Harry," Uma replied earnestly, biting her lip a little as she stood on her toes to get closer to his height. "And I surrender happily."
"Oh Uma," He confided, bringing his hand back up to her face, tilting her chin closer to his. His voice was rough, and it sent chills down Uma's spine. "Never set me free."
As she leaned in to kiss him again, she noticed a flash of red over his shoulder. She pulled back, and Harry eyed her curiously, a bit disappointed that they didn't kiss. She narrowed her eyes and looked around him at his back to see the liquor-stained shirt had a mix of red in it.
"Harry, you're bleeding!" Uma exclaimed, concern and worry evident in her voice.
Harry chuckled sheepishly and tried to sound unaffected, but his back was starting to sting even worse now that he was thinking about it. "Oh yeah, my dad threw his beer at me. Nae worries."
She sighed in exasperation and grabbed his hand again. "C'mon," she stated as she started to drag him towards the entrance of her mother's store. "Let's go inside and fix you up."
"Wait," he called, and Uma reluctantly stopped and turned to face him. She tapped her foot impatiently against the ground, and Harry felt a little buzz inside of him at how much she cared about him. However, he had a serious question. "Before we go in, what are we now?"
"What are we?" she repeated, confused by the question. She furrowed her eyebrows and answered, "I love you, and you love me. What else do you need?"
"I mean," Harry said, feeling a little embarrassed at the bizarre question, but no one really told him how a relationship was supposed to work. "Is there some kind of label?"
"You want a label?" she inquired, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He was worried she was offended by something he said, but luckily she wasn't. In fact, she placed a hand on his chest, planted a long kiss on his lips, and smirked. "Okay then, congratulations. You are officially a Checkerboard Chap."
Once again, she mocked his accent, and Harry grumbled in annoyance, "That's not even Scottish. Chap is British."
"Same difference, Harrison. Now follow me."
And there's my little Hairspray AU! I hope ya'll liked it -Jojo, who found so many errors in this holy cow, like I wrote this half a year ago