AN:...I'M SO SORRY! I know I have a ton of other fics to work on, but as I was steadily plodding away at those, this EXPLODED IN MY MIND AND I HAD TO WRITE THE PREMISE. So I'm updating it, for genuine fans of the crossover, and for people who are following me and wondering when I'll post next.

I've been reading HP/GLEE crossovers, and they are excellent. My Way Home is Through You and Champion's Lullaby are particular favourites. However, I'm getting tired of the 'Harry goes to Lima' premise. Really, why the Hell would he go to Lima? I want him to go to New York, and meet a certain fabulous diva there. So that's what I'm making him do. BWHHAHAAH.

Obviously, AU. I don't follow the tv show very much, so it will have sketchy details. Timelines will be off for both fandoms. If you nitpick about that, I'll probably ignore you and keep playing with it as I have been. It is more Character-driven than plot-driven, but I'll try to make it interesting.

Disclaimers: I own nothing! Nothing you recognize belongs to me!

Warnings: This will eventually be Harry/Kurt so if you have a problem with male/male stories ... a) why do you watch Glee? and b) you're missing out on some awesome fics. Slight Ginny bashing, only because I don't like her and Harry as a couple. Blaine bashing, because his slicked back hair offends me. He was way cooler when he was Harry Freaking Potter :P

Please enjoy!

Chapter One - Rainy Days Are Here Again

There was nothing quite like a rainy day in New York for when you're feeling melancholy. Yes, that was exactly the word that Kurt Hummel would use to describe how he was feeling at the moment. The water turned everything a dull, uniform grey, that fit perfectly with his mood. Umbrellas hid the faces of the people he passed, and the sidewalks weren't as crowded as they usually were. Conversely, the roads seemed more clogged than ever, as taxis and cars fought and vied to get to wherever it was they were going.

Kurt huddled into his extremely nice new 'poor me' coat, and buried his nose even deeper into the muted scarf he was wearing. It wasn't a colourful day – he was wearing shades. And while he was just vain enough to forgo allowing the rain to drip down his face in a soft parody of tears, he was using a black, almost funeral-style umbrella.

When divas did melodrama, they went all-out.

That was what brought Kurt out from his sighing and moping in the apartment he shared with Rachel Berry. She was too damn chipper, and the rooms to warm and welcoming (damn his incredibly good taste!) for him to be able to stare out the window into the hopelessness that was the world. So he had to settle for roaming the streets of the city, searching for the pieces of his broken heart.

Because his heart was broken. Blaine had broken it, and Kurt had gone through all kinds of cycles of grief over it. He thought he was pretty much allowed to be as depressed as he was, because what Blaine had done was just not OK. If he had had reservations about the long distance, Kurt would have been crushed, but it could have ended mutually. They could still be friends. It would be awkward, but they could move past it, and maybe, in the future...

But no. He had to go cheat. Because Kurt was too far away. Because that slut was so attractive. Because Kurt wasn't good enough.

Kurt snorted, but caught himself and tried to turn it into a pitiful sniff. He was pretty pathetic; a fabulous, gay diva, living in New York and pining over his ex-boyfriend who went to highschool in Ohio. Way to go, Kurt.

Kurt had always promised himself that his Prince Charming would be different, would be interesting, would be special and handsome and perfect. So he should really get over Blaine, because it was obvious that he was no Prince Charming. Kurt was moving into a bitterness cycle, so he reflected over how short Blaine was, how socially insensitive he could be, those ridiculous outfits he insisted were 'dapper', and his eyebrows. Gucci, his eyebrows.

Kurt sighed some more and noticed that the dull grey buildings and brightly-lit windows were being replaced on one side by rain-drenched greenery. He really should get over this – Kurt had broken up with Blaine in early November after the Senior had confessed his cheating. Kurt hated how the basic facts – Kurt dumped Blaine – would make Blaine appear to be the victim if the situation wasn't elaborated on. And Blaine wasn't going to go shouting to potential boyfriends that the only reason his ex had dropped his was because Blaine had cheated... so unfair. But really, Kurt just couldn't stay in a relationship like that, even if Blaine had told him. Blaine hadn't even lasted two months, and Kurt was worth more than that.

Hopefully, he'd find that in New York. If not in the City of Dreams, then where, right?

Kurt drifted over to enter Central Park. He wasn't sure if he would be able to walk around the entire thing, but it would be a nice change of scenery. If he kept passing those shop windows, he'd be driven to do more 'break up' shopping, and his credit card wouldn't thank him for that.

Kurt enjoyed the relatively empty park. There were a few people out with umbrellas, and the occaisonal crazy-fitness person jogging down a trail. It was nice. The sounds of traffic were dulled through the barrier of trees, and he could imagine that he was really alone. That was the one thing that was unsettling about New York – while a lot of the time you felt as though you didn't know anyone, you could never say you were alone. The sounds of other people were always intruding upon you, forcing you to acknowledge that you weren't an isolated blip on the map. It was a big adjustment for Kurt, who,, despite having his wonderful father and fabulous friends, had been alone for a very long time. Only gay kid in Lima, and all that.

Kurt was distracted from his morose thoughts by a splash of colour and shrieks laughter cutting through the drizzle. He looked up, and saw a sight that had him cooing internally.

A little boy – a toddler, really, judging by the way he was moving so unsteadily on his feet – was splashing around in the puddles that had formed on part of the trail. He was wearing shiny yellow rainboots with handles on the sides, and an adorable, bright red jacket with a lion face on the hood. He stomped his feet and laughed, and Kurt found himself smiling despite his mood. He looked around for a parent, and almost immediately found a likely candidate.

The man was wearing a black rain coat, and he too had on rainboots. They were red, matching the litle boy's jacket almost perfectly. The dark jeans that were tucked into the boots were very well cut, and Kurts eyes couldn't help but drift up the clean lines...

Kurt blushed. Really, he had just broken up with his cheating boyfriend. He shouldn't be checking out fathers on outings with their young sons. It just wasn't very delicate at all. He quickened his pace so that he would pass the pair without any further – ahem – observations.

Suddenly, there was a small cry and a very large splash and Kurt felt an icy trickle seep into his shoes. His very fashionable, but not quite waterproof shoes. He also noted, in a sort of detached manner, that his lower pant legs were absolutely soaked. Before he could register the full horror of his wardrobe malfunction, he glanced down at the cause of it.

Apparently the puddle he had been passing was far deeper than the others. Park maintenance should really look out for this sort of thing, he thought. The little boy had drifted away from his father, and had presumable jumped into the puddle, only to be caught off guard by the depth of it. He had fallen over, and was even more soaked than Kurt was. His eyes were almost completely circular in shock, and his lower lip had just begun to tremble.

Let it be said that Kurt had never liked children. They were loud, they were messy, and they were completely self-centred. Kurt wasn't quite as self-obsessed as say, Rachel, or Jesse St. James, but he still had a healthy amount of Diva in his personality. From his own experience, children could be very cruel, and they always made a mess of a perfectly good outfit. Looking at the child, he believed that he had a case in point.

However, looking into those eyes, and seeing them begin to brim with tears due to the cold and the shock, Kurt couldn't help but feel sorry for the boy. So while one part of his mind was mourning his ruined masterpieces of buffed and shined leather, the other was urging him to scoop up the little boy and get him out of that horrible puddle.

So he did, and suddenly he had an armful of soggy toddler that he was unconsciously cooing over.

It was at this time that the father managed to make his way over, and he had a slight tinge of panic in his voice and manner.

"Teddy!" he gasped, "oh, cub, did you fall over?"

At this question, the little boy – Teddy, apparently – started to cry softly, shivering and squirming in Kurt's grip. Kurt wasn't quite sure what to do with this situation, so he glanced up helplessly at the father.

Despite the relatively dire situation of a soaked child that could very likely get sick, Kurt was caught immediately in the man's eyes. They were a breathtaking, vibrant green, framed by dark, sooty lashed. Wet black hair fell carelessly across his face, and he met Kurt's gaze with a grimace that was all at once amused, concerned, and apologetic.

"Thanks," he said, and Kurt realized with a start that the man was British. British, he swooned internally. "I'll take him, but thanks," the man said, reaching for his son. The little boy met his father halfway, and the British man winced when he saw how wet the child was. Kurt miraculously found his voice, and was able to speak without squeaking.

"You should get him dry. He's going to catch a cold," he said, then immediately started hating himself. That was the first thing he said to the English, green-eyed hottie? What an amazing first impression! But, it was true – the kid needed to dry off. So did Kurt, but even if his pants and shoes were basically deceased, the rest of him was fine. Teddy, however, would get sick very soon if he didn't get out of those clothes and into something warm.

The man was juggling his son, and seemed to be nodding absently. "You're right," he muttered, "we should really get home – Ted, you're soaked," he exclaimed in distress, wiping at the boy's running nose and dripping hair with his sleeve. Kurt sighed and fumbled in his pocket.

"Here," he said, handing the man a spotless white handkerchief. The man stared for a moment, before grinning gratefully and taking it. He began patting at Teddy's face and hair, getting the moisture off. Kurt couldn't believe it. He had been reduced to monosyllables in the face of this man. Him! Kurt Hummel, the boy who re-defined eloquence in Lima. He wanted to say a lot of things – justifying his handkerchief, which Finn always made fun of him for, asking if the child was alright, complaining about his shoes, hell, he even considered talking about the weather.

He wished he could disappear.

The British man, seemingly satisfied with his son's appearance for the time being, murmured to the boy, "we'd best be getting you home, cub."

The little boy had stopped sniffling (thankfully!) and was now pressed against his father. Somehow, in the time it took for Kurt to get over gaping at the man, his large jacket had been opened and the boy was bundled inside. Kurt stood up, and the man turned towards him with a smile.

"I'm awfully sorry about this," he said, "do you want to come back with us and get dried up? We don't live far." He seemed very sincere, and Kurt thought that it couldn't hurt to go to the ridiculously attractive British man's house and dry off in an unspecified manner.

"Oh, no, I couldn't impose..." Kurt trailed off weakly as the man brushed aside his feeble protest.

"Don't be daft," he said, "you're trousers are soaked right through! And you helped Teddy, so it's really the least I can do."

It was the eyes, Kurt decided. Those damned green eyes created a deadly combination when paired with the British accent, and Kurt found that he could refuse the man nothing. Also, Teddy looked positively frozen, and it wouldn't be fair to the kid to keep him out in the cold because of their arguing. So as the unnamed British man turned down the path with a quick stride, Kurt found himself following.

Really, what else had he to do?

As they walked, Kurt made a promise to himself. He would not fall for this man. Just because the man was kind, didn't mean he was attracted to Kurt. The man had a son, which probably indicated a wife or girlfriend of some sort. An accent did not indicate intelligence, or romantic tendencies. He had only just recently broken up with Blaine.

So, no. Kurt wouldn't fall in love with this man. He wouldn't even develop a crush on this man. He would just go to his house, and chat, and possibly make friends with the man, or possibly never see him again. Either way, he could just chalk it up to 'New York Experiences' and go on with life.

As far as plans went, it wasn't amazing, but it was all Kurt could think of.

Especially when he kept being distracted by those Gucci-damned jeans.

AN: so, thoughts? I hope they're not too OOC. As I've said, I'm not an avid fan of Glee, I mainly just watch the occasional episode for Kurt (because he's amazinglyfantabulistic), Sue (I worship at her altar), Santana (bitch be bitchin'), and Mike (because he's hot).

I have so many versions of Harry in my head, but I'll try to keep him believable. Any suggestions or feedback would be really appreciated.

And yes, I know that I overstretch myself with my stories. It's a chronic writing disease, and I'm working on it. My other fics aren't really abandoned, and I work on them as inspiration comes to me. So if you're waiting on a fic, maybe go check out my other ones (NOTE BLATANT SELF-PROMOTION).

Thanks for reading, Hope you liked it!

DarkPhoenix