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 Two: Sixteen

Chapter Twenty-One: Sunday Morning

When Harry wakes, he knows exactly where he is, and who he is with. He'd not had much to drink the night before, and so he remembers clearly the events of Brittany's after party, hanging out, catching up, talking, laughing, dancing. He and Brittany had stuck together mostly, goofing around, grinding on the impromptu dance floor, making out in the walk-in pantry. They'd snuck off to her bedroom when the others had started pairing off or passing out or heading home, had made out on her bed, had talked and laughed and fooled around some more. It had been fun, and comfortable, and easy, but they'd fallen asleep before any underwear could come off, and Harry, as he switches off his alarm clock, reflects that it's probably for the best.

"Do you have to go?" Brittany asks, sleep-tousled but alert, curled up on her side. Her makeup is smudged beyond belief, but she looks cute like this, her bedhead a fright and pillow creases on her cheek.

"Yeah, I've got work in a couple of hours."

He'd texted his parents the night before, had let them know that he'd spend the night at Brittany's with the rest of his friends, but he'd made arrangements for them to pick him (and his car) up that morning, and he doesn't intend to keep them waiting.

"I'll help clean up a bit before I go," he informs her, "But I'm sorry to dash."

"It's fine," Brittany answers, and he believes her. She seems entirely unruffled, and her lack of reaction is a peculiar comfort. She offers him a playful grin. "I know where you live, remember?"

"Should I be scared?" He quips, tugs on his trousers, and palms at his aching eyes. He'd slept with his contacts in, so it seems it'll be a day for glasses, and he tries not to be irritated by it.

"Duh."

Harry shakes his head, fondly amused, and struggles not to feel self-conscious under her casual scrutiny. He focuses on the buttons of his shirt instead, searches vainly for his belt, and pockets his phone, wallet, and keys.

"When are your parents getting home?"

"Not until tonight," Brittany answers, "San and Quinn said they'd help me get the house back in order. Do you think they'll make up? I miss how things used to be."

"I don't know. Santana seems really angry with her."

Brittany exhales, and drops her head onto her pillow. "I know. It's sad."

"I'm sorry," Harry replies, unsure of what else to say. Brittany's optimistic and idealistic and in some respects, supremely naive, but she knows as well as anyone that sometimes people change - relationships too - and she doesn't need to have it pointed out to her.

"It's not your fault."

"I guess not," Harry acknowledges. He combs his hands through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to make himself presentable, and glances at his phone. His parents should be arriving in half an hour. "I'll head downstairs to clean up a bit. Are you going to go back to sleep?"

"I'll be down in a bit," Brittany answers, "Garbage bags are under the kitchen sink."

Harry nods, offers her an awkward smile-nod-thing, and retreats out of her bedroom.

After a brief detour to the bathroom, he heads downstairs, retrieves one of the garbage bags, and sets to work gathering up disposable cups, food packets, leftover snacks, opened bottles and cans and other such detritus throughout the kitchen, dining room, and living area.

Brittany joins him partway through, dressed comfortably and her face scrubbed clean of makeup, and they work together in an easy, companionable silence broken only by the rustle of plastic and the clink of aluminium and glass inside the plastic bags in question. SHe's oddly adamant about separating the general waste from the recycling, and although Harry's bemused by her insistence, he doesn't protest and instead does as he is told until his mum texts him that they're five minutes away, and could he please be waiting outside when they arrive?

"I'll wait with you," she says, and does just that. It's cold out though, and by the time his parents pull up behind Puck's truck, they're both shivering. "Thanks for coming over last night, Harry. I know you didn't want to, so it means a lot that you did."

"It's fine," he says, and tries not to think about the long day ahead of him, "I had a nice time. Thanks for having us over."

They hug, and Brittany presses a loud kiss against his cheek. He tickles her side for the trouble, watches her head inside, and then approaches the Mazda with a sigh. His dad's waiting against the passenger side door, eyebrow arched in curiosity and expectation, and Harry avoids his gaze with a red face.

"Did you have a good night?" James asks, and there's a sardonic lilt to his voice that probably doesn't bode well.

Harry idly wonders if there's another discussion about sex and sexual safety in his future, and God, he hopes not. The first had been bad enough.

"It was fine." He hands over his keys without further comment, and his father nods, apparently content with his non-answer.

"Right," James acknowledges. He grips the keys in a wide, callused palm, and steps aside in order for Harry to open the car door, "I'll see you at home, then."

Harry offers his father a smile that feels more like a grimace, settles himself in the passenger seat of his mother's Mazda, and offers Lily another smile-grimace thing. It's a bit too early for much else, and a bit of a weird situation besides. Harry had learned from his mistakes from earlier that year though, and he has no desire to lose his car privileges again; Not to mention his license.

"Hi, baby," Lily greets him, "How was the dance?"

"It was fine."

Lily sighs. "Care to elaborate?"

"The dance with Quinn was uncomfortable, but the rest was fine. Nothing too interesting."

In the past, his grandparents regularly hosted black-tie events, and as soon as he was old enough to reliably manage to not make a fool of himself, Harry had attended every one that didn't clash with his academic schedule. The events had slowed down over the last few years - Charles and Dorea's age had begun to catch up with them - but Harry remembered those events vividly, and compared to the events in question, McKinley High's Homecoming Dance was entirely unremarkable.

"Kate couldn't stop laughing at the photo of you wearing your crown. Santana posted it on Facebook, I believe."

Harry rolls his eyes, unsurprised. "Of course she did."

The rest of the drive is spent catching his mother up on his friends' lives, and therefore, when they arrive home, he's glad to get out of the car. The lift is appreciated, admittedly, but the accompanying interrogation isn't, and he retreats downstairs before his parents can tag team him for more details about his night, his friends, and especially about whatever the hell's going on with him and Brittany.

Author's Note: Apparently, my incarnation of Harry has a type. That is, you know, blondes. Literally everyone of the girls (except Cho) he's been with in any way, shape, or form has been blonde. Even my off-screen OC, Marie. Mind you, this was unintentional, but hello Welcome to the Jungle headcanon.

Anyway, I hope you like the extra chapter. I've been inspired. Also, I'd really like to move past episode two of Season 1. I think the next chapter will be my last of the Showmance AU, but we'll see…

In any case, thanks for reading. Until next time, -t.