Welcome to the Jungle

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Part One: Fifteen

Chapter Forty-Three: Good Time

Predictably, there's an after-party (there are a few, actually), and the one he attends has a guest list that's restricted, and Harry's surprised to be one of the few lucky enough to receive an invitation. It's at Terrence Higgs' place, a chilled out affair with good drinks, good music, and good company, and Harry doesn't regret attending in the slightest.

Katie doesn't either, it seems, clustered together with the few other sophomore girls there, cackling as one of them exaggeratedly reenacts an incident Harry can't make out from his distance. She's sober, the only one to be in a group of inebriated friends, and Harry can't tell if she's laughing at the story, or at her friends themselves.

He's settled comfortably on a couch in the living room, accompanied by Frankie, Seamus, Dean, and Ron. They'd been visited, sporadically, by others, but mostly, the after-party has consisted of them hanging out, drinking beer, and shooting the shit.

It seems to be the usual state of things with these guys, actually, and Harry can't say he minds it much.

"So, Lauren Zizes," Seamus says conversationally, his focus on Frankie. Ron and Lavender detach themselves from each other to pay attention to the conversation, and Harry sits back to enjoy the entertainment.

"Lauren Zizes," Frankie confirms. The tips of his ears are red, "She's a good friend."

"What do you see in her?" Lavender asks. It's not intended to sound malicious, but it does anyway, and even as the rest of them offer her unimpressed frowns, Ron cringes.

It goes without saying, of course, that none of them respond to Lavender's enquiry.

"One that can probably kick your ass," Dean contributes.

Lauren Zizes is one of the few girls on the WMHS Wrestling Team. She's not exactly pretty (conventionally speaking), and she's built sturdier than most of the females Harry knows, but she's entirely terrifying, with the skills and confidence to back it up, and a chip on her shoulder the size of Canada. It means she's not the most approachable of their classmates, but that hasn't seemed to deter Frankie.

"Undoubtedly," Frankie agrees nonchalantly. "I asked her out because I think she's really cool, and I don't know, I guess we'll see where it goes."

"You're a brave bastard," Seamus marvels.

Frankie rolls his eyes. "She's not that scary."

"We'll take your word for it," Ron answers. He doesn't sound convinced.

Terence Higgs drops into an available seat next to Dean, and greets them all with hand shakes and fist bumps. He's the third starting striker on the soccer team, a quiet, skilled sophomore who keeps out of the usual high school politics most athletes are plagued by, and Harry's only encountered him on a few occasions. Higgs is good people though, as far as Harry can tell anyway, and his gathering is something to appreciate.

"Thanks for the invite, Higgs," Harry acknowledges.

"No problem, dude," Higgs answers, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah, I am," Harry confirms, smiling, "It's a good crowd."

"Damn right it is," Seamus concurs, to a round of uproarious agreement.

In the din, Katie arrives at his side, takes stock of the lack of available seating, and settles herself in Harry's lap. He shifts to accommodate her, wraps his arms around her middle to hold her steady, and meets Ron's gaze from over Katie's shoulder. Harry's bewildered, Ron is amused and encouraging, and Katie looks like there's no where else she'd rather be.

"Comfortable?" He greets her wryly.

"Absolutely," Katie answers. She slumps against his chest, yawns, and proceeds to fiddle with the watch on his wrist. She doesn't contribute to the conversation around them, but she pays attention, laughs and smiles at all the right parts, and Harry contemplates his drink. It'll probably be his last for the night, if Katie's waning energy is anything to go by, and he's somewhat disappointed by the fact. It's been a good time, and he's a little reluctant to see the evening draw to an end.

Nevertheless, he drains the last of his beer, and taps Katie's side where his arm is curled around her middle. "You ready to go, Blondie?"

Katie doesn't even bother to put up a token protest. "Yeah."

They part with their friends with guarantees to see each other soon, at work or school or wherever else, and leave the party hand in hand.

"I'm sorry we're leaving so soon," Katie says, chagrined, "I'm exhausted."

"It's not a problem, Katie," Harry answers. He opens the driver's seat for her, and waits as she gets comfortable, "It's probably smart, actually. I don't know about you, but I've got work tomorrow, and a ridiculous amount of homework to finish. I mean, Christ."

Katie flashes him a grin, somehow bright in the dim glow of her overhead light, "Glad we're not juniors."

"Or seniors," Harry concurs. He shuts the door behind her, walks around to the other side of the car, and settles himself in the passenger seat, "I mean, I don't look forward to sitting the ACT's and SAT's on top of everything else."

At present, their older friends - Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia, Cedric, and Lee (among others) - look snowed in, preparing for the ACT's, all the while staying on top of their homework and extra-curricular commitments, and what have you. Viktor and Fleur, who are rapt up in more of the same with their SAT's, and swamped with the extra pressure of preparing for their respective futures besides, don't look any better.

Harry can't say he envies them the stress.

"Ugh, don't remind me," Katie grimaces. She ignites the engine, pulls away from the curb, and makes her way to Harry's place, "I'm dreading it."

He flashes her a smile in the dark. In the brightness of a passing street light, Katie catches it from the corner of her eyes, and returns it with one of her own. "You and me both."

In the companionable silence that follows, Laura Marling filters from Katie's speakers. It's a mellow, restful way to end what has been an altogether pleasant evening,. Therefore, as Katie pulls up by the curb in front of his house, Harry finds himself reluctant to leave the confines of her car.

"I had a nice time tonight," Katie says, breaking the silence between them. Laura Marling sings on.

"I'm glad," Harry answers. He means it. "I did, too. Thanks for inviting me."

Katie laughs. "Thanks for accepting."

As Katie leans forward - to hug him, or kiss him on the cheek, Harry doesn't know - he turns his head to kiss her cheek instead, and is startled when his lips meet hers. His eyes are wide open - hers are too - and without really intending to, they both start laughing.

"Um, okay," Katie mumbles, chuckling still, "I don't know, should we try that again?"

Harry shrugs. He's not about to refuse. "Why not?"

They do, and it's… something else.

Katie pulls away first, shaking her head. "Yeah, no. Sorry for the mixed signals, Harry, that's…"

"That's a bit weird," Harry concurs.

"Friends?" Katie asks, earnest and hopeful.

Harry nods, pleased, and concurs, "Friends."