Welcome To The Jungle
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Glee. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Part One: 15
Chapter Five: Little Talks
Unsure of what else to do, he calls his dad. The others bitch about it, but the fact is, Puck may need a doctor, and if nothing else, James Potter can actually drive. None of them can claim the same, and quite frankly, Harry just wants to go home and pretend this night hasn't happened.
His dad pulls up in the Escalade, his mom behind him in the Mazda 6, and they both hand out water bottles on their approach.
"How you feeling, Puck?" James asks, crouched in front of the boy in question.
"Like shit," Puck answers, and it's a testament to the pain he's in that he doesn't bother pretending otherwise.
Meanwhile, Harry's mum is consoling Santana, who still hasn't stopped crying. Brittany's fallen asleep, and Quinn is fiddling with the other blonde's hair. She looks like she's on the verge of tears herself, and Harry drops onto the curb beside her, lost for words.
"I can't believe they did that," Quinn says, "I mean, why would they do that?"
"Some people are just bastards, I guess." He shrugs, unable to offer her a decent answer. "You know you did good tonight? Following up, making sure she was okay, calling for help. Brit's okay because of you."
Quinn's lips pull into a grimace, one of those subconscious kinds. She's holding back tears. "Pucks not, though."
"He will be," Harry answers, "Doofus probably thinks it's worth it."
As Harry speaks, his dad rises from where he is crouched in front of the teen in question, shuts off the torch on his phone, and helps Puck to his feet. Mike, Matt, and Finn clamber up after them, Quinn and Harry follow suit, and his parents negotiate what to do next.
Eventually, James addresses the group. "You're all welcome to crash at our place tonight, but if you'd rather not, Lily and I are happy to drop you home."
"San and Brit were supposed to be staying at mine, but my dad would blow a gasket if they showed up like…" Quinn gestures vaguely, but they all get the drift anyway.
"All right, so that's three. Anyone else?"
The others accept the offer to crash as well, and there's a few confused moments where everyone works out who's going in which car. Eventually, however, things get sorted, Brittany is helped into the Mazda, and they're all on their way to Casa Potter without any more incidents.
It's not until his dad pulls into the driveway that Harry remembers, belatedly, that Kate's got a handful of her friends over for the weekend. He suppresses the reflex to groan his displeasure, and instead helps a belligerent Puck out of the car.
"Nice digs," Matt offers.
"It's home," Harry absently replies.
They shuffle inside, and Harry leads the way into the living room. As he does so, he can't say he's particularly surprised to find a bunch of middle school aged girls sprawled out in the living room, in their pyjamas, a romantic comedy paused on the flat screen.
"What are you doing here?" Kate asks, "What happened?"
"I live here, and it's none of your business."
Kate huffs and rolls her eyes, but she doesn't bother arguing. Instead, she presses play on '27 Dresses', and turns the volume up.
Regardless, the film doesn't dissipate the awkwardness that is practically palpable, so it's a relief when the girls arrive with his mum, who seems to have stopped at Wal-Mart on her way home. She shows Quinn, Brittany (who is blessedly conscious), and Santana into the room they'll be sharing across the hall from Katherine's room, and then sends them all downstairs to enjoy the rest of their night - or at least attempt to - with soft drinks and snacks in hand.
Puck collapses on the couch in the rumpus room, and the others follow suit around him. Brittany curls up against his side, Santana on her other side, and Harry plugs his iPod into the sound system.
Death Cab for CUtie filters from the speakers, but none of them have anything to say, so 'Bixby Canyon Bridge' plays on.
Eventually, Puck breaks the silence in his usual, tactless way, and Harry's almost grateful.
"So that was fucked up."
"Tell me about it," Matt agrees.
"I still can't believe it even happened," Quinn admits, "This is Lima. Nothing happens here."
The music continues to play, Maroon 5 and Killing Heidi and whoever else is on his iPod, but over drinks, chips, and chocolate, they talk it out. It's uncharacteristic and sometimes awkward, but between Santana's blossoming anger, Brittany's tears, and the vague sense of disbelief that still rocks them all, it's somehow cathartic. He'll probably feel the guilt that he wasn't there to help for a long time to come, but through it all, there develops an unspoken understanding that they'll each have each other's backs in times of crisis - sober and intoxicated alike - and Harry can't say he regrets that.
Eventually, Puck shuffles into the last available guest room Harry's assured is his for the taking, Santana and Brit make their way upstairs, and Mike and Matt fall asleep on the couch. Finn's already passed out on the floor, which leaves he and Quinn the last two standing, and again, Harry has no idea what to say.
It seems to be a frequent state for him, at least where Quinn Fabray is concerned.
If he's honest with himself, it's probably why he's so discomforted by her.
"You know, your parents are pretty awesome," Quinn says.
They're out on the back patio, slouched side by side on one of the wicker couches there. He's sparked a couple of candles for illumination, but mostly, it's dark out, and the stars are bright in the sky. He can see more of them out here, in Lima, than he'd ever been able to see in Chicago, and the novelty still leaves him awed.
"Yeah, I know," Harry answers, "It's easy to forget, sometimes, but then nights like this happen, and they're just there, you know - no questions asked - and I remember that, actually, my parents are pretty bloody fantastic."
"Your family seems pretty close. There are a lot of photos." She sounds almost wistful, and Harry's not sure if he ought to pry.
"Close enough," He confirms, "Katie makes me crazy sometimes, but I guess that's par for the course with little sisters."
Quinn laughs. "Siblings in general, I think."
They talk about their respective siblings, which naturally segues to friends and hobbies. It's nice to talk to her without the rigours of school or peer pressure, and before he knows it, it's almost three o'clock in the morning, and they're both exhausted.
"I guess we should go to bed," she sighs.
"I could use some sleep."
They exchange goodnights, which is vaguely awkward, and Harry walks her to the stairs. She ascends up them in the dark, and Harry retreats into his bedroom. He discards his jeans and T-shirt for a pair of flannel trousers and nothing else, collapses into bed with a grateful sigh, and is asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.
It's been a long, tiring day, and he's glad it's finally over.
-!- -#-
He wakes around mid-morning to a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and an abundance of toast, to hungover friends and a bruised, battered Puck, and to word that his father, James, has left to drop off Kate's friends at their respective homes.
"How did everyone sleep last night?" Lily asks.
"Well enough," Harry answers. He doesn't mention that he'd woken to a couple of nightmares, but no one else does, either. Instead, they're all predictably polite, on their best behaviour and what have you, and his mum doesn't pry any further.
Instead, she leaves them to their meal, and retreats upstairs with Frodo and Sam in tow.
"You know, I never realised your family's British," Mike says.
"What gave it away?" Harry asks, affecting his father's accent. It hasn't diminished in the years since their move from London, and Harry takes ridiculous pride in the fact he can pull it off at will.
Santana chokes on her breakfast, clears her throat with a mouthful of orange juice, and declares, "That's fucking hot!"
Harry shares an amused glance with Puck, but neither of them bring up the wide receiver's heritage or upbringing. If she hears Puck speaking French, Santana's head may just explode.
Let it be known that Puck and Harry are entirely aware of the draw people have to foreign accents, cultures, and people.
Instead, the conversation transitions to places they've each visited, and Harry can't say he's particularly surprised to learn Finn has never left Ohio. Quinn has never left the United States, but she's visited a number of states along the eastern and western coasts, and she's one of the few of them who have ever been to Disneyland. Puck's been to the one in Paris, and Mike has been to Disneyland Tokyo, but Harry's never been, and given his father's aversion to crowds, he doubts he will any time soon.
Eventually, the last of the bacon, eggs, and toast is demolished, as are the sliced fruits and yoghurt, and Puck drains his coffee just in time for his mother to pull up outside.
Deborah Puckerman looks exhausted, fresh off a 12 hour shift at work, and upon sight of her son, her face crumples. She's already been informed of the events of the night prior, courtesy of a lengthy text message from James, and to Harry, it looks like the woman can't decide if she ought to be proud, heartbroken, terrified, or furious.
Either way, she cradles Puck's battered face and hugs him tight, and Harry averts his gaze, embarrassed to be witness to the scene in front of him.
From behind, Lily sidles up beside him, waits patiently for Mrs Puckerman to collect herself, and then makes an effort to reassure the woman as best she can.
As she does so, Harry glances at the others, and prays their own pick-ups - barring Brittany's - are far less emotional.
He can only hope.