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: Fifteen
Chapter Thirty-Five: move On
In the morning, Harry's shift at the Steam House passes in a mindless haze. His mind is still at Seamus' house where, as expected, Cedric is nursing a truly monstrous hangover in the care of Ethan, who can't decide whether or not he ought to be sympathetic to his friend's plight, or utterly merciless.
In particular, Harry's thoughts are on the revelations of the night prior, and on the question of how he ought to proceed in the days and weeks to come. He has every intention of being there for Cedric, and for Cho if she wishes it, but the question of whether or not he ought to do more remains, as does the quandary of what, exactly, that 'more' entails.
"Wild night?" Hermione asks during a lull in the breakfast rush. Ron is a machine, desperate not to slow down lest he fall asleep on his feet, and he looks like hell. Harry hasn't checked, but he probably looks the same. He certainly feels it.
"Something like that. How was yours?"
"I actually had a date," Hermione admits.
"Oh?"
"With Mike," she adds. She looks uncertain, and it occurs to him - belatedly - that she's worried about his response.
"That's cool," Harry replies, "He's liked you for a while."
Harry wonders, briefly, if he should be concerned by the fact Hermione has started dating Mike literally days after learning that Viktor's now dating Fleur, but he opts not to ask. Hermione and Mike are smart enough to make their own choices where their respective relationships are concerned, and moreover, he finds himself already embroiled in more relationship drama than he really knows what to do with. It's perhaps selfish, but Harry would sooner avoid getting involved in another couple's problems.
As is, he's having a hard enough time dealing with whatever is going on between he and Quinn at present, and he has no business getting involved in anyone else's relationship troubles. His inclusion into Cho and Cedric's grief is something he hopes will never be repeated, mostly because he has no idea how to help his friends through it, and if Harry's lucky, Ron's not going to turn him into a sounding board for whatever the hell is going on with he and Lavender Brown.
"I've liked him too," Hermione admits, "I just didn't want to dive right into a new relationship after Viktor, you know? The fact it's kind of tacky aside, I guess I needed to take a step back; reevaluate what I want in a partner, and in a relationship, as well."
"Make's sense," harry replies, and in the dining area, a patron raises his hand to get his attention. He nods his acknowledgement, and offers Hermione an apologetic shrug. "Duty calls."
They don't get much of a chance to chat throughout the remainder of their shared shift. The cafe's busy, and what lulls in the chaos they do get, they're spent ferrying used crockery and the like between the dining area and the kitchen. All the while, Gemma watches over them like an overbearing sentinel, and the woman is far too intimidating for any of them to brave an attempt at idleness beyond the half hour lunch breaks they take consecutively.
That said, it's a relief when they each clock out, and more so when they are able to collapse around an empty table. They're each exhausted, their feet aching, and although Ron's got plans for an extended afternoon nap before his date that evening, Harry's only plans consist of assisting with the preparations for Kate's birthday party movie night sleepover thing.
While they wait for their respective lifts, Hermione trudges up to the counter to order a drink for each of them. Ron stares blankly at the middle distance, exhausted and probably still a little hungover, and Harry takes the opportunity to check his phone. There's a voice message from Cho, apologising for her meltdown the night prior, and also offering her gratitude for the way he'd handled everything, for being a shoulder to cry on, so forth and so forth.
There's a text from Cedric, thanking him for watching out for Cho, and also informing Harry that Ethan has enlightened Cedric on Harry's knowledge of the situation. He doesn't promise that they'll talk about it, but Harry's certain to text them both with word that he's there to listen, if they ever wish to talk, and also to inform them that he has no intention of passing the information on to anyone else.
Aside from them, Puck and Santana have texted, with word the party they'd attended the night before had been a drag, and if he's honest with himself, Harry feels a little vindicated. His own gathering hadn't turned out nearly as well as he'd anticipated, but at least the police hadn't been called on them.
Notably, there isn't a text from Quinn waiting for him, and as a result, Harry's rather tentative when he sends her a text instead. It's nothing special, just a 'Hey, how are you?' and after it's sent, he sets his phone aside with a weary sigh.
Ron shakes himself from his daze, blinks rapidly, and queries, "Everything okay?"
Harry shrugs. He can't complain, really - someone's surely having a worse day than him - but still… "I've had better days."
Hermione returns with their drinks in hand, and she sits back down with a grateful sigh. Ron distributes their drinks, and he slumps over his, content to bask in it's warmth, or perhaps the aroma.
Harry's not quite sure which. Maybe both.
"So, Mike," Harry broaches, "Did your date go well?"
"We had a great time," Hermione answers, and there's a cheerful grin on her face, "We went to Java Lava for dinner, and we walked to the library afterwards. They had a poetry slam going on, and most of the poets were actually quite good. Not all of them, of course, but I thought it was very entertaining."
Java Lava is a cafe near the library, a 24 hour place that has a regular open mic night and some sinfully good coffee. He loves the Steam House, is absurdly proud of what his mother's achieved with it, but a person can't eat and drink the same stuff all day every day without growing bored of it.
Hence, his - and his family's - occasional sojourns to Java Lava.
"Well, I'm glad you had a good time," Harry acknowledges. "Did Mike?"
"I think so," Hermione replies, "He asked if we could go out again, so I'm optimistic."
"I think you two will be good for each other," Ron says decisively. He's been quiet up until this point, and Harry's a little startled by the redhead's declaration. Hermione is, too. Ron shrugs, a little defensive. "You two have a lot more in common than you do with Viktor. I mean, Krum's my friend and everything, but he doesn't really give a shit about the same things you do. NO offence."
Hermione smiles, unruffled. "None taken. I know what you mean. He's a nice guy, but as you said, we didn't have much in common. It was horrible when we broke up, but in retrospect, I can recognise that it was definitely for the best. I just hope we'll be able to be friends some day. I do miss his company."
Ron shrugs, noncommittal. "Anything's possible."
Harry's phone buzzes to life with a text from his father, who waits for Harry outside. He takes a moment to frown over the fact that Quinn still hasn't replied, but shrugs it off to wish Ron the best of luck for his date that evening, and to wish Hermione the same for her new adventure (such as it is) with Mike.
Afterwards, he retrieves his takeaway cup of cocoa (the good kind, of course), and steps out into the cold of January in Ohio. His father, as indicated, idles in the parking lot outside, and Harry gracelessly clambers into the passenger seat, eager to get out of the cold.
"How was work?" James greets him.
Harry shrugs. "It was work. Same old crap, different day. Gemma's as terrifying as ever. I don't know why she doesn't just join the army. She'll be a Drill Sergeant in no time."
James snorts as he pulls into traffic. "And how was last night?"
"It was fine." He prays, briefly, that the man's too focused on driving to read Harry's micro-expressions, but it's mostly just wishful thinking on his part.
James Potter always notices.
"Right," he drawls sardonically, and then asks, utterly serious, "Is there anything I need to worry about?"
"I don't think so," Harry answers, "it's nothing like that. Just, you know, drama."
He cringes as he says it, because it's an explanation that completely trivialises Cedric and Cho's choice, and loss, and grief, but he's not comfortable with explaining the truth for a multitude of reasons.
Mercifully, his father doesn't pry. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he focuses on the road, and the remainder of the car ride is spent in silence.
-!- -#-
Kate's playing the piano when they get home. Harry sidles up behind her, and tugs her into a bear hug. It's actually her 14th birthday today, and the present he gives her (a new wallet, an iTunes gift card, and a box of her favourite chocolate) is accepted gratefully and without reservation.
"Happy Birthday, Kit-Kat," he says, and this time, it's Kate who hugs him, brief, but fierce.
"Thanks," she says, "For the presents, too. Are you going to hang out with us tonight?"
Harry shrugs. He's not thrilled by the prospect, but it's Kate's birthday, so… "If you want me to."
He helps to clean up downstairs until it's spotless, and then leaves his mother, grandmother, and sister to sort out the snacks while he showers, and then takes a nap.
When he wakes from his nap, it's just passed five, and Quinn still hasn't replied. Kate's fluttering about though, excited and what have you, and Harry opts to leave confronting Quinn - and whatever the fuck is going on with her - until tomorrow.