AN: I have decided, apropos nothing, that Potterman is the best name for this pairing, mostly because it doesn't sound like an awkward name of a real person. Soooooo much love and appreciation for everyone who reviewed! The good reception continues to amaze me. Oh, and in case anyone here didn't already know it, I don't own Harry Potter or Glee. I just have a deep appreciation for both of them.
Harry listened to Sarah chattering happily about her star performance in "The Presidents of the United States", nodding and inserting an "absolutely" or "brilliant" whenever necessary, but his brain was a million miles away. Probably in the same ballpark as Puck's brain. Puck was slumped in the shotgun seat, glowering. Mercedes and Kurt had warned him that Puck had a pronounced tendency to shut down and revert back to a petulant four-year-old's state of mind whenever anyone made a crack at either his daughter, or the fact that he was a father.
Deciding it was best to let Puck stew a bit, he glanced back at Sarah. "Which one is your place?"
"That one." She pointed ahead to a neat little apartment complex. He pulled up to an empty spot and helped Sarah out of the car, a still uncomfortably silent Puck hovering next to her. Harry took a moment to scan the dark parking lot before following them in the building. He didn't really expect a Death Eater to jump them right there, but it didn't hurt to look. Ever since Hermione's call, he'd been walking around with a faint nervous buzz at the back of his mind. It wasn't enough to make him really and truly afraid, but it was enough that he kept his wand with him during every waking moment, and constantly tested the protective enchantments that he'd placed on his apartment. If he started spending even more time with the Glee clubbers, he'd have to see to it to add the subtlest enchantments that he could to their houses. On an off chance that Yaxley ever did show up, he'd likely take the time to learn who Harry friends were. The Death Eaters, after all, had had ample time and opportunity to learn that while Harry didn't give much of a damn about his own safety, he would really and truly die for the people he cared for, if that was what needed to happen.
Sarah swiped the keys out of Puck's pocket and fumbled with the lock on the door, as Puck was still occupied glaring at the wall as if it had given him personal offence. He followed them both into the apartment tentatively, not sure if he should walk in or not, as he hadn't been explicitly invited. Puck didn't seem to care enough to order him out, though, so it seemed okay. Sarah rolled her eyes. "My big brother is too rude to tell you so, but there are drinks in the fridge if you want any. Are you staying over?"
"Until your mother gets back, I guess," said Harry, shifting uncomfortably.
Sarah offered him a brilliant smile. "Thanks for trying, but you don't need to if you don't want to. You might end up waiting a while."
Harry shrugged. "It's Friday night. I don't have to get up tomorrow, and it's not like I'm missing anything right now."
She gave him an odd look. "You actually care about us, don't you?"
"Yes?" He didn't know what he was supposed to say to that.
She said nothing, only stared at him for another minute before heading off to brush her teeth. He was glad when she did. She was so old for her age, and that bit of steel glinting in her eyes was uncannily like McGonagall.
Puck waited until she disappeared into the bathroom until he finally spoke up, his voice a low growl, and Harry couldn't help but jump a little. "God, I can't stand it when they talk like that."
"Like what?"
"About my daughter. About Beth. Like she was some kind of fucking mistake. Which she isn't, she's goddamn perfect."
Harry remained silent, sensing that Puck needed to vent more than anything else.
"And then they keep going on like it was my fucking decision to let her go. It sure as hell wasn't, I wanted to keep her more than anything. The ones who don't act like I'm some horrible fuckup for having to let her go, they bitch that I'm being stupid harping on about it and wishing I could have taken care of her." He paused to take a deep breath, and his red-rimmed eyes fixed Harry with a desperate, almost pleading look. "I'm not being stupid, am I? It's not stupid shit to want to take care of your child, is it? It's not stupid shit to wish you could have been a good father?"
"God, no, it isn't stupid shit," Harry half whispered. "Not by a long shot."
Puck sank onto the couch in the living room and put his head between his hands, looking thoroughly beaten. Harry sat down next to him, careful not to move too fast or invade his space.
"Jesus, I'm tired," Puck told him. His shoulders shook a bit. "I'm really fucking tired of having to be nice. Nobody gets it about anything. My mom. Juvie. Beth. Nobody fucking gets it."
"They're sheltered," Harry said bluntly. It was the truth. "The worst pain some of them have ever had is a hangnail."
Puck gave him a direct, almost challenging stare. "You seem to get it. Why is that?"
"I grew up with a useless uncle and aunt. I've been on trial. I had a godson, but they told me I was too young for legal custody. It isn't rocket science."
"You never said anything about an aunt and uncle."
Harry pretended to pick at a nail. "Because they were useless shit, that's why. And I'm glad to be shot of them."
"What about your dad?"
"Dead."
Puck swore. "Jesus. Do you live alone or something?"
"Pretty much."
Puck was silent for a moment, until his shoulders began to shake. For a panicky moment, Harry thought he was starting to cry, and he didn't know if he should run away or get a box of tissues or what before he realized that Puck was actually laughing. He raised an eyebrow quizzically.
"Oh, fuck, I'm sorry," said Puck, calming himself down a bit. "It's just, we're kind of both screwed up, aren't we?"
"Speak for yourself."
Puck stared back at him, his expression deadpan.
"Oh, fine," Harry admitted. "Just a tiny bit."
Puck had tucked Sarah into bed and turned on the television to some old Sci-Fi film about mutated crocodiles, and they had both sat down on the couch with a bowl of microwave popcorn. The whole thing was weirdly domestic, like a scene out of the Weasley family house, and Harry didn't even know what to think. It was probably about two thirty in the morning now, and Puck, although he had tried valiantly to watch the door, was nodding off on the couch. Harry leaned his own head back against the pillows, but didn't fall asleep. That year of constant guard duty shifts outside the tent had taught him to keep his eyes open when he needed to.
He glanced over at Puck, who was now snoring lightly. It was sort of endearing. He wasn't drawn up in rage, or trying to look like he didn't care, or trying to start a fight, or anything, really. He just was. A faint scuffling came from the door, and he tore his eyes away from Puck, sitting bolt upright on the couch. More scuffling. Puck was blinking awake, now, and getting to his feet. Heading to the door. Putting his hand on the handle.
"Wait," Harry said, leaping up, his hand drifting toward his pocket. It could be Mrs. Puckerman. It could be Yaxley. It could be anyone.
Puck peered through the peephole. "Relax, Harry. It's definitely my Ma." There was something like embarrassment mixed up with relief in his voice. He pulled back the bolt and opened the door, and a very drunk woman stumbled into his arms.
"David?" she asked, blinking glazed eyes up at Puck. Her hair was brown, her sensible coat had something that smelled strongly of whiskey dribbled down the front, and she was missing her left shoe.
Puck evidently seemed to have heard this before. "Not David, Mom. Noah."
"Noah?" Her eyes were still blank. She pushed herself out of his arms, tried to walk to the kitchen sideways, and ended up tripping. Harry's seeker reflexes kicked in, and he caught her just before she hit the floor. She was passed out cold.
"This always happens." Puck sounded more tired than frustrated. "She goes straight for about a month, pays all the bills, doesn't touch the bottle. Then she runs short on cash, decides to work overtime, gets tired, and stops by the local bar for 'just a bit, to take the edge off' before going home. And then she does come home. At two in the morning." He picked up her legs, and they both hauled her off to the master bedroom in a sort of fireman's carry.
They returned to the main room in silence, Harry picking the purse up off the floor and putting it on the counter, and Puck moving the single shoe remaining to the pile of other shoes by the door.
"Don't get me wrong, she's a good person," said Puck, out of nowhere. He seemed to want to explain things to Harry. "She just gets…"
"Lonely," finished Harry.
Puck gave a halfhearted sort of shrug. "Yeah." It wasn't stated outright, but between the lines of his words, Harry could read a plea to keep quiet about everything.
"No word yet on Yaxley?" Harry said.
"Nope," said Ron, regretful.
Harry let out a deep sigh, and gave his wand a lazy sort of twirl. Snowflakes started coming down from the ceiling and dusting the carpet. "Merlin, this is driving me crazy."
"I know, mate, I know." Ron sounded sympathetic. "We thought this was all over, but we have to go back to watching our arses now."
"You and Hermione are being careful, right?" Harry asked.
"Don't worry! We always use protective spells, and a condom if we don't have time for that-"
"Merlin, shut up!"
"Sorry. Couldn't resist." He could almost see the grin in Ron's voice.
"No, I mean, you are watching your backs, right?" Harry pulled nervously at one of the nubs on the throw blanket covering the couch. "Everyone just assumes that they're out to get me, but they'd have just as much reason to want to exact revenge on you guys, or anybody else related to the Weasleys, really."
"Hermione already did say something to that effect," said Ron. "So we never go out alone, put some magical barriers around the Burrow. The usual, you know."
"Good."
"We just worry about you the most because you're by yourself right now. I mean, don't get me wrong, you're good, mate. We know you can take care of yourself. It's just that one to however many might decide to show up isn't exactly good odds."
"Point taken."
"You're making friends out there in the middle of nowhere, right?"
Harry snorted. "Yeah. I'm not a complete hermit yet."
"I think you should be watching their backs, too."
"I kind of figured that out for myself, thanks."
"Just reminding you is all," said Ron. "Call back tomorrow night? Hermione wants to make arrangements to come visit you."
"Already? We've been apart a few weeks, not a few months."
"You know how she is. Oh, and mum sends her love."
"Tell her the same."
Ron, never one for eloquence or drawn-out conversations, hung up after that. Harry was left to stare up at the cracks in the ceiling and ignore the growing snowdrift in his living room. For situation that was supposed to be a getaway, he was ending up with an awful lot to think on.
"Thank God we have you," Mercedes was telling Harry, as they loaded up the bus to head off to sectionals. "With Kurt gone, if you hadn't been able to step in, we would've been one member short for competition.
"Recruiting would have been fun."
"And would have ended in either a porta-potty lock in, or a nice grape-flavored slushie," Mike interjected from behind them.
"Oh, the beauty of William McKinley High," sighed Artie, as he headed off for the wheelchair lift.
"I just can't help but hate that McKinley asshole when they talk about him in history class," said Puck. "Like, even if they named this place something different, it would still be a hellhole, but you just can't help but be bitter, you know?"
"I didn't know you actually went to history class," said Tina. Half the Glee club look stunned.
"It's a good place for a nap," said Puck defensively.
"You obviously haven't been taking enough naps to justify showing up there if you've been hearing enough to remember names and facts."
"It's a subconscious thing! Like, the other day I had a dream that I turned into Abraham Lincoln and had to give the Gettysburg address at sectionals."
"So you remember the Gettysburg address, huh?" Mike was grinning.
Puck huffed and stomped into the bus. Clearly used to dealing with temper tantrums, the club carried about their business, ignoring both Puck and a simmering Rachel and Finn.
Harry dropped onto the seat next to Puck uninvited. At this point, both could admit that they were friends. The club still liked to watch them out of the corner of their eyes as if they still expected the two of them to be spoiling for a fight, and Harry really couldn't blame them for it, but for the most part, they took the newfound truce in stride.
"Mind filling me in on what's going on with Rachel and Finn? She's been glaring at him like she wants to stab his eyeballs out with the heel of her librarian's shoes," Harry said.
Puck rolled his eyes. "Trouble in paradise, apparently."
"One of them cheated?"
"Not really. Apparently Finn banged Santana, like, a year ago, but told Rachel he was a virgin."
"Ouch."
Puck scratched the side of his head. "According to Santana he's a bad lay anyway, and Finn said he didn't enjoy it and regrets it, so who the hell knows why Rachel's getting worked up?"
"Well, for starters, everyone and their mum knows that Santana thinks anyone who isn't Brittany is a bad lay-"
Puck gave a grin that was more of a leer.
"-and Rachel is old school romantic. She was probably dreaming of having a mutual first time with petals and scented candles the night after she wins her first stage Tony. And then, you know, there's the whole lying thing. Not the best way for Finn to get in her good graces."
"See, this is why I gave up relationships," said Puck cheerily, sticking a wad of chewing gum under the bus seat. "No hurt feelings. No drama."
"The sex usually isn't as good in the long run if you don't actually like the person," Harry pointed out.
Puck made a face. "One con. Versus, like, a laundry list of pros, I think I can live with it."
Harry shrugged. "As long as they don't wreck the show at sectionals, everyone will be okay."
Some kind deity must have been smiling upon the proceedings, because as it transpired, Rachel and Finn didn't wreck the show. Oh, they came awfully close to it. The tension on stage was difficult to miss. But Sam and Quinn's lovely, if very vanilla duet stole the hearts of the judges, and Mike and Brittany as a dancing duo was more than enough to distract anyone with eyes. They got to see Kurt in action with the Dalton Academy Warblers, too. Harry had to admit that they actually weren't half bad. Even if they wore their uniforms on stage. Who the hell wore their uniforms on stage?
"Who the hell wears their uniform on stage?" echoed Puck, as they were lined up on stage waiting for the verdict on sectionals.
"Kurt told me the pants make him feel like boiling kittens," cut in Mercedes.
"He's just mad because they aren't two sizes too small," said Rachel acidly. She was still in a bad temper.
Her mood was not improved when they ended up tying with the Warblers. The entire club spent the ride home edging as far away from her as possible.
The next day, they handed Rachel the holiday decorating budget. Tina couldn't help but voice her concern that Rachel would show up with a box of matching tacky sweaters for everyone to wear, but no one else really cared. At least it shut her up for the time being. They were all scattered around the choir room, taking a much deserved break after the drama of sectionals.
"Anyone got plans for the winter holiday?" Quinn asked, painting alternating nails red and green.
"Christmas party, Lima Heights style," said Santana, swiping the red lacquer from Quinn and starting on her own nails.
"Temple with my mom and sister I guess," Puck shrugged.
"I'll have cousins over to visit, which means Asian parties every night until the crack of dawn," Mike grumbled.
Tina planted a kiss on his cheek. "Don't worry; they'll have the karaoke machine like they always do, which means you get to show off."
"What about you, Harry?" asked Mercedes, busy going over a tottering stack of notes for midterms.
Well, that was a good question. Harry had forgotten that he had neither a Yule Ball nor Ron and Hermione to stick with this year. "Sit by myself, I guess. Feel bad that I never learned how to make a Christmas pudding."
"You're staying all alone?" Sam look horrified.
"No can do, dude," said Puck, speaking up. "It's the holidays. That's just sad, to stay home by yourself. I don't know if you're all weird about religion or what, but if you're not, you should totally come over to my place for Hanukkah dinners and stuff."
Everyone's jaws dropped so far Harry was pretty that he heard clicks. Harry hid his smile with effort. "Sounds good. It's a deal."
Special internet cookies and love will be given to anyone who spotted the foreshadowing here. And no, I don't mean the obvious bits. Good luck!
