It's so peculiar seeing my dogs face as my picture here...
Harry wished he knew more about the Glee club, because Santana's angry scowl and Puck's weary acceptance was confusing him. "What's happened?" Harry whispered, leaning close to the girl. "What's up?" They were sat in the choir room, waiting for Mr. Schue to show up.
"Schuester decided that we were 'all too good' because the ballot voting we did was split between me and Britt, and you and Kurt. You didn't get to vote, but I knew how gushy you were about Quinn's performance so I told him that you'd have voted for them. He pisses me off! Because his fucking precious Finchel didn't win we have to sing one of his shitty songs instead. Like, honestly, why not just say Man Hands and the Thick-as-Soup Giant have the duet because they have chemistry or some bullshit like that?" The girl said all of this in pretty much one breath, leaning against Harry by the time she'd finished. Puck nudged him with a slight warning in his eyes but Harry didn't know what for, which was incredibly unhelpful.
"It's okay, Auntie Tana." Harry murmured, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her even closer. "The product fumes must have gone to his 'living my dreams through my pupils' brain."
Santana laughed loudly, the sound muffled by his clothes. "Why aren't you wearing your uniform?" Santana pulled back, looking up at him with confused dark eyes.
"Coach says I don't have to practise today. Said something about my physical fitness being perfect and memory retention of the routine being brilliant." Santana gasped loudly; that had never happened before! "I'm pretty sure Professor King threatened her." Ah, that makes sense.
"Professor?" Puck grinned widely. "Professor King?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. For the really daring, call him Sevvie. He's scary when he's in threatening mode... Doesn't mean I like him any more, though." He rolled his eyes skyward. "What was wrong with Kurt?" he asked softly, worry blooming in his eyes. Puck scowled.
Santana immediately began to coo, ruffling his hair and pinching his cheeks. "He's a little ice-bitch who thinks he owns the world. You were upset about him calling it stupid, weren't you? Saying that two gay guys made people uncomfortable?"
Harry shifted. "He's not an ice-bitch, Santana. A little, I guess? Like, it was my first assignment and I had it with this awesome guy who's been perfect and brilliant to me, and he calls it stupid? Is he calling me stupid? The song? Was he upset? Was I too pushy? And, yeah! How the hell does two guys staring at each other make others uncomfortable? Is it a small town thing? In Scotland, it was fine to see two blokes or three women groping and holding each other. It was fine. Does he think so little of his sexuality? Of who he is?"
"Wait, three women?" Santana choked, recovering and looking behind him, smirking wickedly.
"Well, yeah. Polyamory is encouraged because it means that the old families have more blood in their lineage." Harry explained, confused. He wanted to turn to see what she was smirking at, but she clasped his face in her hands and forced his head to stay.
"Old families?" Puck asked, leaning into the conversation and smirking at something behind him; however, the smirk was also tinged with interest... and was that want?
"Yeah! I'm from an old family, even if my name is common, and the Heir to another. Draco is the head of a very old family - trust me, he'll brag and brag and brag and it's all hereditary - and the mixing of the blood is preferred. If they want babies, they adopt a kid or choose a sperm-donor if they're female, a willing female if they're male. Same sex relationships are absolutely no problem... At all."
"That's enlightening," Kurt said, his mouth barely a centimetre from Harry's ear. If it weren't for Santana's tight grip on his face and her body pressed tightly on his own, Harry would have jumped and probably slammed him to the floor. As he was, he spasmed. "I'm sorry I made you feel like that, Harry." Two thin, pale arms snaked around his chest and a firm chest pressed to his back. "I found the overall assignment ridiculous; but only because I feel like we should be preparing for the Regionals without cock-and-bull duets that haven't happened. Obviously from the people here, you know that homosexuality is a big, fat whopping sin. I'm sorry." Kurt finished by nuzzling Harry's neck; Santana released him and Harry turned, wrapping his arms tightly around the other boy.
Mr. Schue strolled in, writing HELLO on the whiteboard and surrounding it in a bubble. "Hello," He pointed at the bubble. The room shifted awkwardly. "Hello?"
"Hello!" Rachel replied loudly.
"What do you say when you answer the phone?" Mr. Schue asked, smiling brightly. Harry released Kurt and the taller boy sat down.
"What up?" Mercedes said.
"Who dis' be?" Artie grinned.
"No, she's dead, this is her son." Kurt muttered; Harry's chest clenched. Puck quickly shook his head so Harry would catch it from the corner of his eye, so that he didn't say anything; Harry swallowed and settled down in his chair.
"O... kay. Alexander Graham Bell, inventor of the telephone, liked to say, 'ahoy ahoy' when he answered the phone. It was Edison who decided that 'hello' was a more appropriate greeting." Mr. Schue beamed at his newly imparted fact.
"Not that this isn't riveting, Mr. Schue—" Quinn started; the curly-haired man carried on as if she hadn't spoken.
"Look! I am really proud of what you guys did at Sectionals. But, as most of you have realized by now, it hasn't made a bit of difference in your day-to-day at school."
"I have a slushie-stained training bra to prove it." Rachel sighed; Harry gagged, much like Santana and Kurt.
"Fact is, we're going to have to be better, even more spectacular at Regionals. It's time for some reinvention, some new, New Directions. We need a new... hello. Here's your assignment for next week: come up with a fresh number, but it has to have 'hello' in the song title. All right?"
"So instead of finding a perfect song choice, we're going to sing hello?" Harry asked, disgusted. Mercedes rolled her eyes in annoyance, Harry bearing his teeth in response. "I'm just saying! Coach leaked your set list, right? And instead of being super-secretive and making the perfect song choices, you're going to make us say hello in a damn song? What about your competitors? Kurt mentioned Vocal Adrenaline—who were last years National champions and haven't lost a competition in three years—this is bloody serious!"
"Yes, that's all wonderful, Harry," Mr. Schue tried to calm the teen, "I'm glad you know so much, I was just going to say that - "
"It sounds better in my English drawl," Harry waved his hand like that was what Mr. Schue was going to say. "Yes, thank you, I know my accent is beautiful."
"You're not wrong." Puck and Kurt echoed, the pair turning to stare at each other in horror and confusion. Harry looked incredibly confused and torn.
"Er—right. I think Puck has started the conversion programme. I repeat, I think Puck has started the conversion programme." Santana burst into little giggles beside him, repeating his comment to Brittany. The blonde girl gasped.
"Is he becoming those silver men from Doctor Who?" She craned her neck to gaze at Puck in distrust, her blue eyes narrowed. "Touch my baby wizard and I'll sic Lord Tubbington on you. His heroin addiction has made him violent."
"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said for me," Harry gushed, leaning over Santana to link their hands.
Harry grumbled throughout the day and despite Kurt's assurances that Draco would be with him tomorrow, his mood was not shifting.
Until it began to snow.
"It's snowing, look!" Kurt gushed, pointing out of the window with his nail file. "I hope it continues through the weekend so the school is closed Monday!"
Harry watched in pleasure as the snow flakes got larger and larger, wishing he could play in it. The snow at Hogwarts made the school look beautiful and the Whomping Willow was always a fun thing to stand by if too much snow built up. "I hope so too..." he whispered, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "Hey, Kurt? Why doesn't Mercedes like me?"
Kurt stiffened, looking at him and hooking their knees together. "I don't think she doesn't like you, but she doesn't know you," Kurt said patiently, the slight tightening of Harry's jaw making him frown. "I don't know why she rolled her eyes today, and I'll talk to her about it. I want to be your friend, Harry. She has to accept that."
Harry smiled shyly, his fears assuaged. "I'm sorry. New place and I guess I latched on you, huh? I didn't think about your existing friends."
"Don't think like that!" Kurt admonished, taking Harry's calloused hand in his own soft one. He began to file Harry's nails again, sharpening the claws. "You know... Santana told me Puck... got stiff during our performance yesterday," Kurt was a very slight shade of pink and his voice was low. "He seems to like your nails."
Harry gaped; Kurt smiled smugly. "Keep it up, Harry. What do you think of the new Glee assignment?"
Harry blinked, trying to wrap his head around Puck's... situation. "Erm... Unnecessary. He got hard from my nails?"
"I wish I could say what his fantasy was," Kurt sighed forlornly, lightly scraping the tips of Harry's nails so that the tips weren't so pointy. "Ah. Santana is throwing a 'we survived the first week of school' party tomorrow night, starting at six. Puck is buying the alcohol. Will you come? What with your friend arriving tomorrow..."
Harry looked pensive. Did he want to experience underage drunk Muggle activities? He grinned. "Well, Draco will need to settle in... And I can't leave you alone with drunk men," He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I'll bring some of my favourite alcohol, as well. Make it a real party."
Kurt smiled back. "I think the only person eligible to take advantage of me would be you... And I wouldn't be getting drunk anyway. Come to my house before and I'll do your hair for you?"
"How would I get home after the party? I'm sure Dray would flay me if I left him alone all night." Kurt's chest constricted painfully, like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. "Nothing like that!" Harry hastened to add, frowning slightly. "He has a phobia of being alone in the dark. If there's no-one else there to assuage his fears, he gets all panicky and can't sleep."
Kurt nodded, smiling slightly. Harry didn't need to expand, but he did anyway... It made him feel warm. "You could probably bring him too, you know." Harry shook his head vehemently. "Then I'll drop you off at home," Kurt promised, eyes shining. "On Sunday you can take me for coffee and pick your car up too."
Harry smiled brilliantly. "If I molest you and I'm drunk, you can't hold it against me."
Kurt choked on his own saliva.
Saturday morning dawned bright and early for Harry, who stepped into his Floo and called out, "Ohio International!" He barely made it out of the Floo on his feet, but he managed. He then waited patiently in line for the Great Britain International Company to announce their times for travel - he only had to wait another five minutes before he was spiralling across the oceans and lands themselves to Britain again. He managed to land gracefully this time, finding a free Floo gate and calling out, "Malfoy Manor holding room!"
Draco greeted him with an exuberant kiss and quick grope. "Hello!" He beamed, throwing his arms around the dark-haired boy and holding tightly. "I've missed you so much! I know it's only been a - what are you wearing?" Draco hissed, pulling back. "Are you seriously wearing white socks with black shoes?!" Draco roared, pointing his wand at the socks and turning them black to match his pumps; he also changed the navy blue button-down to a light silver one, making his jeans a pale grey. "At least you're wearing your Jacobs watch I bought you."
"It's women's," Harry offered blandly, looking the much taller boy up and down. "You haven't been eating well." It was a sad observation: Draco shifted and shuffled his feet slightly. "Nor have you been sleeping."
"Daddy's trial took a lot from me," Draco admitted shyly, hiding his face in his hands. "It's wrong of me to sentence him, to drive the hammer into the nail... But he did so many bad things, Harry." Harry remembered - his repressed memories allowed him brief snippets of what Lucius Malfoy, right-hand man of the Dark Lord, could do... But Draco knew everything. He had to relive it - he didn't have Harry's damaged brain that was more of a blessing than a curse. He had only the past and a daunting future. "And I just - gosh, I don't know what to do!" He sobbed slightly, but Harry made no move to comfort him. It would make Draco angry.
"Severus Snape is alive." said Harry once Draco had stopped crying and stared at him with eager blue eyes; eager to leave, to start anew. "Dumbledore forced him into the Muggle world and he's had his magic stripped heavily." Draco paled, but he took it in stride. "Come. The journey is tiring. I will invite Snape to my home tonight as I am... otherwise occupied, and he will stay with you through the night. The contact will be good for the pair of you."
Draco followed behind dutifully, echoing Harry's shout into the Floo, everything he owned in a satchel on his shoulder. Every last knut, scrap of clothing, memory... All packed in one bag. Draco found it incredibly poignant. Everything he was, amounted in one bag - sure, the bag was expanded to the very last expanse, but...
Everything he had was insignificant enough to fit in one small bag, to be transported across the oceans with him - almost like demons that crooned in his ears ad he couldn't let them go.
"Have you made any friends, Harry?" Draco asked politely, eyeing the amalgamation of witches and wizards in disgust. It seemed so... foul, that these vermin (for they were surely vermin, with the way they scurried like ants and went about their every day life as if nothing had changed oh and how everything had changed!) had not died in the place of people like Nymphadora Tonks or Fred Weasley ("Go! Malfoy, just go!" Fred had screamed, covering Draco on all sides, Draco sharply flying upwards as light left the Weasley's eyes - and the lovely Metamorphagus who had taken on his form in front of the Dark Lord and accepted his punishment) but then - oh, then he thought of little Teddy Lupin, who would never know his parents and he swallowed. How many of these people had family? How could he truly wish they died, when they were trying to regain their normality?
"Yes," Draco felt a horrible twist of jealousy from the smile in Harry's voice. "Kurt Hummel, Santana Lopez and Noah Puckerman. There's another... Charlie, his name is. He is so very different, Draco, and there's a sadness in his eyes I've never experienced before. Alas... Kurt. He was the very first person I'd met; he swanned up to me in similar attire to myself and it almost seemed like fate, you know?" Draco swallowed again; Harry knew nothing of mates or grounding mates, seeing it only as polyamory - and Draco hoped and prayed to every Dark deity he knew that Kurt was not a prospective mate nor grounding mate. "He was so confident and sassy," Harry carried on, snickering. "And Santana... Well, she's a definite firecracker. I didn't like her to begin with, but somewhere between beating up a thug double my size and staring at her familiar beauty, we kind of... clicked, you know? I've got her searching her family tree, to see if we're related or something, because she's so similar in appearance to..." Harry couldn't put a name to a face, but he saw a flash of dark, curling hair and a wicked cackle and a roar of 'Crucio!'.
"Erm - Puck. Noah Puckerman." Draco could feel Harry's desire. "A brutish thing - he was lovely when we first met, but then I saw him put Kurt in a dumpster," Ah, tell-tale pricks of red anger bloomed on pale cheeks. "I got him to apologise, of course, but he popped a stiffy over my nails the other day," Harry chuckled, holding up his sparkling nails for Draco to glower at. "Kurt wants me to play with him, tease him a bit..."
Draco sneered, opting not to reply. He would get a feel for these Muggles and, if he didn't like them, he would warn them away from Harry. For as much as Draco detested Potter, he loved him just as much. He was the boy Draco had lost his virginity to - and vice versa - and the boy who had comforted him when something had pelted him with snowballs at the Shrieking Shack, who had held him when Buckbeak clawed his arm so strongly and made him so pathetically weak, who stroked his hair when his Godfather had been pronounced missing...
Harry sighed like Draco's silence meant nothing to him. "The Portkey will be ready now. I'll track down Snape, you two can catch up, do your shit... I'll crash at Santana's or Puck's or Kurt's or something. Use the time wisely, Draco."
They latched to the Portkey like a lifeline - their traded look was one of excitement, of the prospects of the future... and absolute terror of the unknown.
They landed roughly, Draco managing to hold himself and Harry, ushering the dark-haired boy to the Floo. "Bambi's Den!" Harry called out, grinning at Draco as green flames licked his feet and body. Draco followed, rolling his eyes all the while, barely managing to land upright. "Right. I'll go find Snape. Go make yourself at home."
Draco looked around in disgust, his wand already out and making rectifications. Harry just grinned, Apparating and following Snape's weakly pulsating magical signature.
His house was well protected - Harry presumed he was in a dungeon or oubliette, the wards faltering and relocating from his efforts to shred them to pieces. He had managed, partly - the strongest wards were ripped to shreds. He was told his magic had that effect, although he wasn't sure why. He couldn't remember.
"Potter!" Snape snarled, his feet light and soft and his voice soft and at the same time scared. "What are you - how did you destroy my wards?"
Harry gazed back dispassionately. "Draco is at my home and would like to see you. Your wards are incredibly weak." Harry stood, unaware of the red gleam in his eyes, the ring of his pupil changing only slightly. Severus Snape had been in the Muggle world for too long to notice it; but what would he do if he knew that - stop. His thoughts locked down tightly, memories burrowing further into his mind. "Hurry up. It's around three o'clock and I have a party tonight."
Snape grit his teeth, unlocking the dungeon door and letting the boy out. My wards are not weak. Snape wanted to rip his hair out in frustration. Dumbledore put the damn things up! How am I supposed to throw them back up when I can barely cast the Cruciatus curse?
Harry seemed to read his thoughts, throwing up Dark wards, promising harm to anyone who ripped through them like Harry had done to his older ones. Grudging respect blossomed in Snape's eyes as Harry held out his arm. "Side-along," Harry explained. "You're not keyed into my wards and I'm hidden by the Fidelius Charm. Only Muggles can see my home, and even then there's an illusionary spell to make them question if it's even there." Snape sneered and took the proffered arm, feeling the uncomfortable squeezing of Apparition and then he was in a house that exuded magic. It was unnatural! It was as if the very walls themselves were built with Harry's tumultuous magic, switching between loving Light magic and crooning, addictive Dark magic, at once at war and in harmony to give shelter. "I made the house." Harry said, eyes lit in amusement.
"Are you reading my mind?" Snape asked before he could stop himself, cursing not a moment later.
Harry pouted softly. "Relax, Severus Snape, my dearest God-daddy. What has gotten into you? You're acting like I'm going to hurt you. What is the matter?"
"Nothing," Severus breathed as the Dark magic flickered away. "Tell me, where is Draco? I much desire to speak with him."
Harry rolled his eyes, kicking off his pumps and striding up a set of stairs to the right of the house. Severus looked around briefly, noting black marble floors that practically stunk of Dark magic, with clean, glistening grey-bricked walls. The right wall was a blank white, littered with portraits and pictures alike. Severus breathed deeply, removed his shoes as elegantly as he could, and followed the Boy-Who-Lived. He felt like a newborn kitten with no mother; and perhaps it was true. Harry Potter, the boy he saw every day in flashes of mundane lessons, laughing with Muggles and putting them in their place (the thought daunted Severus), had managed to destroy the Darkest being to ever roam Wizarding Britain. A man of seventy years under his belt - sixty years of hard, tortured learning to become the very best, the very strongest... And this little runt of fifteen and a half years, four years of education under his belt, had managed to destroy that brilliant, crazed man. Had managed to rip through the strongest wards Dumbledore knew with nought but thought running through him.
And he felt sick. It was unnatural. It was wrong. It was...
"Draco?" Severus whispered, staring at the golden-skinned, scarred blonde man in bewildered bemusement. He was incredibly tall at 6'3, with a thickly muscled body and a Chelsea smile. His hair fell in front of his eyes, so different and yet so similar to how he'd kept it as a child, floppy and untamed. Severus ran his eyes down his body; Draco was missing a chunk of flesh from his left wrist, and his arms were covered in burn scars that Severus assumed extended across his chest. "You - oh, you've grown so much, my little prince..." Severus whispered, taking one long stride forward and pulling the young man into his arms. "So beautiful!" Severus gasped, pulling back and tugging Draco's face to him. "Oh, your eye..." One eye was a sickening, glossy white while the other was the same cerulean blue Severus remembered. "I'm sorry." Severus said sincerely, paying Potter no heed as the boy stepped out of the room. "I am so, so sorry, my little prince."
Harry smiled slightly when Snape had no qualms about touching Draco: most people shied away from the red scarring on his arms and the deep grooves in his face, including his own mother. To see Snape so readily embrace him... He was glad. Hopefully the Potions Master would be able to make a potion for the scarring; the various Mediwizards at St. Mungo's all refused to see the Malfoy Scion and the wounds that would have been so easy to fix, were left to scar. He left, clicking the door shut behind him, and tapped on the door that led to his own room.
His door swung open, his magical signature recognised. Paranoia had become his best friend during the war, saving his life on more than one occasion (not that he remembered it) and it had come through in his ordinary life as well.
He gazed around his room, a frozen white with dark, navy blue trimmings; it seemed to breathe life. Dark vines grew across the ceiling, holding up little balls of light that twinkled and danced like little fireflies or Faerie; and the bed itself hung suspended in the air, held up by thick branches that made up the frame, covered in soft fabric that hid the majority of the bed from view - and subsequently, anyone on it. One of the walls was composed entirely of glass, overlooking their average sized garden. Harry had already planted trees and shrubbery to make the garden blossom, but the weather wasn't right yet; there was a thin smattering of pure snow covering tiny plants and lifeless trees.
He beamed, pleased with his room. It had been a spur of the moment decision to change it but he was pleased he did; normal Muggle rooms were so dull. He wanted to be extraordinary in his choices, just once.
He flicked his wand, his wardrobe doors flinging open and different sets of clothing shooting out; he immediately dismissed red or bright clothing, opting for more dark, subtler tastes. He settled for black jeans, a grey button-down and a black jacket. Not too dressy, nor too down-played. He waved his hand and a small satchel flew into his hand, two bottles of Firewhiskey and a bottle of elf-made wine hidden inside.
What time should I come to yours? xx Harry sent to Kurt, nervously fiddling with his hair. He was torn between leaving it curly or magically straightening it; but it depended on what Kurt wanted to do.
Now, if you can. xx Kurt replied within a minute, somehow managing to send worry through a text. Harry grinned, bolting out of his room and shouting, "Be back in the morning!" to Snape and Draco, locking and double checking his wards. Pleased, he got into his car and pulled out, one-hand sending back, On my way :-) xx
He followed the drag of his magic again, grimacing slightly when Kurt wasn't outside to meet him again. That meant he had to knock: that meant there may or may not be an angry, over-protective father waiting on the other side. He steeled his nerves and pulled up, leaving his satchel in the car (that would be hard to explain away!) and knocked three times on the door.
The door swung open, revealing a bear of a man holding an unloaded shotgun. Harry gulped, plastering on a tiny, sweet smile. "Hello, sir," The man's grip tightened on his gun. What did he say? 'I'm here to get your only son drunk'. His uncertainty must have shown on his face, because the man gave him a gruff nod.
"Name's Burt. You?" The man stepped back slowly, Harry not letting himself budge into the house. The man looked him up and down like a hawk, although his eyes were transfixed on his messy bed-hair; Harry could practically hear the mental tutting the man was doing.
"Harry, sir. Harry Potter."
Harry seemed to have passed some test, because the man shouted, "Kurt! Your British friend is here!" The man then strolled away, leaving Harry standing at the door. He daren't step in!
Kurt appeared from seemingly nowhere, "Hi! Come in, come in!" Harry smiled warmly, stepping into the house and closing the door softly behind him. "Dad had his gun, didn't he?" Kurt chuckled, Harry nodding nervously.
"It was unloaded," Harry muttered, shuffling his feet. "It was sweet, though." Harry grinned when Kurt huffed. "Oh, come on. Could you imagine if you brought home your first lover and your dad just stared, stroking a loaded gun?" Harry giggled when Kurt stormed away; he followed, continuing on, "Just staring. I bet you, they'll high tail it out of here. And then they'll have me to get through, of course."
Kurt groaned, hearing his dad's barely muffled laughter. "I don't think my dad has it in him to shoot someone."
"Oh, I bet he does," There was a sinister tone to Harry's smooth voice. "What if someone got in to your house? Parents do anything for their kids, Kurtiekins."
Kurt threw his hands up in exasperation, pushing Harry into the door that led to his basement. "We're not talking about this. No one would get into my house!" he huffed, following the smaller boy down the steps.
"Fine," Harry clearly disagreed, pointing at his window before letting his hand drop.
"You have a lovely bedroom," he gasped, looking around. Everything was... soft. He expected bright reds, greens - but everything was muted and pastel, with looping fabrics that fell from the roof and were fixed to the wall. "I expected reds. Passionate colours, you know?" Kurt let out a tiny noise from the back of his throat, his face reddening. Harry gave him a puzzled frown but didn't comment. "Um, Severus is staying with Draco tonight, so I'm not needed at home at any set time. It's all on you tonight."
Kurt beamed, clapping his hands together and pushing Harry down on his vanity chair. "Do you want to stay over? I can go ask my dad!" Without waiting for a confirmation, Kurt bustled up the stairs. Harry blinked in confusion, looking around the room feeling incredibly awkward. Kurt appeared at the top of the stairs, obviously victorious. "My dad says you can!"
Harry snorted; it escalated into loud chuckles before he calmed himself down enough to speak. "Guess I can't molest you, huh?"
Kurt shook his head, grinning widely, his eyes lit in joy. "This is my first sleepover! My dad's always worried that people will put my hand in water or something."
Harry tried to smother his laughter, but a tiny squeak left his throat. "It must be wonderful to have your dad be so concerned," Harry smiled, fidgeting. "Now, come on. We have to get our party on."
Kurt nodded, bounding around his room and finding a pair of hair straighteners. "Oh, Harry," Kurt shuffled. "You know when Britt asked if you had a lightning bolt scar?" Harry paled and groaned. "So it is there!" Kurt said, attacking his hair with a comb and the flat irons.
"Yes, yes it is. No, I'm not a wizard," Kurt snickered. "I got it in a car accident when I was younger. My mum and dad had gone to a party, one thing led to another, car spiralled - they died instantly, a piece of metal carved the lightning bolt into my forehead. Looks pretty snazzy, though, right?"
Kurt looked at him with wide, tearful eyes. "Your parents are dead?" The boy continued to straighten Harry's hair, but his hands were slightly shaky.
"Yeah. Don't think about it, though. I was only a baby so I never really had anything to miss." Kurt tapped his head sharply with the end of the flat irons. "Hey! It's the truth! I can't remember them. I don't know them. They're dead. It's the way it is."
"That doesn't make it any less sad," Kurt frowned, combing Harry's hair to cover the scar. "My mom is dead too. She died when I was eight."
Harry found Kurt's thigh and squeezed tightly. "You don't have to talk about it if it will upset you. You have memories to remember her by, which is just... awful."
"No, no, it's fine," Kurt laughed through his nose, concentrating on his task so that he didn't cry. "She was beautiful. After she died, I tried to help my dad by packing some of her things away, and I spilt a bottle of her perfume... The carpet underneath his wardrobe still smells of it."
They were silent for a while, until Kurt muttered, "Done!" and sprayed Harry's hair with hair spray. Naturally, it began to curl in defiance, a tiny piece sticking up. "I give up." Kurt declared, clicking the switch down and turning the straighteners off. "Santana is an emotional drunk. Britt is a stripper drunk. Puck is a sexual drunk. Quinn won't be there because of the baby, surprisingly, but Finn will be there and he just... sits there. Mercedes and Tina will be there, and I think they may be normal drunks. Giggly. Artie is a black guy when he's drunk. Rachel is a very happy drunk. Mike and Matt... I don't know. I will not be getting drunk." Was it weird that Kurt knew that? But, then again, to Harry, it must seem like they'd all been to one of Santana's parties before; like they were all close. It was obvious that Santana was trying to win Harry over: or, at least, win someone over. Why else would she try to present a united front? She'd even told him she hadn't invited Harry and if he wanted him there, Kurt would have to ask himself.
She was definitely trying to win Harry over, Kurt thought angrily. That had to be it.
Harry smiled in amusement. "I'm a sexual, aggressive drunk. I think. I normally wake up with a sore arse and a sore head, so I reckon I'm an aggressive sexual drunk."
"May Gaga have mercy on my soul." Kurt gasped, pinking slightly. He was hoping his status as the frigid, homosexual, virgin Queen of McKinley High would never out to Harry, but it would only happen if Kurt pretended like he wasn't, right? Why was he so fussed? He'd never let it bother him before...
Harry snickered before they were left in silence, the taller boy leaning over Harry and fluffing his own hair out, slicking it down. Harry wanted to brush it back out of his face; wild, untamed, but Kurt was pulling it up into a loose quiff, making Harry pout. "And... done!" Kurt muttered, tongue flicking the corner of his mouth. "Do I look beautiful, or do I look beautiful?"
"Incredibly beautiful," Harry said shyly, ducking his head when startled eyes met his own. "Oh, piss off. You're a very beautiful and attractive person, all right?" Harry's hair shifted, revealing the tip of a bright pink ear. Kurt blushed harder, coughing and moving over to his closet.
"Thanks," he whispered, smiling beautifully when the other boy couldn't see him. "Will you be warm enough?" Kurt asked louder, throwing the wizard a glance over his shoulder. "We have time yet, but I'm going to cook dinner so you don't get outrageously drunk or something." Kurt found his Gucci peacoat and threw it over his arm, turning to face the dark haired boy.
"I reckon I'll be fine," Harry's voice was tender, not recovered from his brief fluster. "The snow has calmed down a bit and I always have you to cuddle," And there returned his British charm, Kurt thought wryly. "Kurt?"
"Yes, Harry?" Kurt placed the coat on his bed, looking around his room for anything he may need. He found a too-large shirt and two pairs of sweats, finding a black satchel to go with his rather formal attire and shoved the clothing into it, if Harry puked or Kurt somehow ended up covered in bodily fluids. "What's wrong?"
"Thank you," Kurt's head shot up, surprise in his eyes when he looked at the shorter boy. Harry was looking away, his lips in the cutest pout Kurt had ever seen and his eyes downcast, dark lashes flush on reddened cheeks. "For everything. I know it probably sucked that I latched on you so much, and I'm sorry if I've been a burden or affected your other friendships in any way or - "
Kurt was across the room in seconds, throwing his arms around the smaller boy and silencing him. "You don't have to thank me for being your friend, Harry. You didn't 'latch' on me, and you most definitely have not been a burden. You're the first male person I've met and befriended properly, and that is not an exaggeration! You're the only male friend I have who willingly touches me - even Mike avoids me, if he can. People don't like homosexuality here, but you told me flat-out I was to be your cuddle buddy. I don't think you realise just how that made me feel, Harry. It was... Lovely. Absolutely lovely. You tripped people who tried to shove me or trip me, the slushie facials have died down and you've tried to make Noah and Karofsky step down in bullying me. Noah and I get on so well now, and Gaga you've even managed to get Santana treat me with kindness! Sure, she calls me Lady Hummel when you're not there, but that's a massive improvement. And don't even get me started on Finn," Kurt joked, tightening his grip.
"In no less than a week, you've twisted my 'thing' for him entirely. I swear I'm still crushing on him, but it's kind of pointless, isn't it? He's hopelessly in love with Quinn, despite her being a floozy, and Rachel is starting to get her claws into him. And you have made me realise. Sure, it hurts, but how much worse could it have been if he'd said something to deliberately upset me, or got my hopes up only to crush them, or worse - Quinn attacking me because of it? I've already slushied myself for him. Those corn-syrup induced tears will be the last tears I shed for him." Kurt vowed, pulling back and down, pressing a kiss to Harry's nose. He relished in those eyes widening and the blush darkening, hoping that this beautiful, wonderful boy would lose his interest in Draco and Noah (and hell, maybe even Charlie!) and only have eyes for him.
Harry didn't know what to say, biting his lip and praying his eyes weren't watering. "Thank you. That was incredibly heart-wrenching and I'm trying not to bawl," Harry said, wiping under his eyes surreptitiously. "Awesome." Harry laughed, making Kurt laugh too. They shared a shy but fond look, separating.
"I'm going to go make some dinner now, do you have any preferences? I can do healthy or disgustingly unhealthy, your pick. I'll be having healthy, of course, my dad will be having unhealthy..."
"Healthy, definitely. It makes for interestingly coloured puke." Kurt scowled in disgust. "I'm serious! Everything normally just looks like a mix of carrot and stomach lining, but when you add a little red pepper or sweetcorn to the mix..."
Santana was already hopelessly drunk when they arrived, greeting them both with rumbustious kisses and a thimbleful of drink landing on Kurt's shoe. Kurt blanched and threatened, "I will get in my car and leave if you do not get me a wipe!" to a giggling Harry.
Harry wiped the drink away with his sleeve, leaving the shoe gleaming. "Is that better, my little prince?" Harry grinned cheekily, standing up.
Santana let out another yell, vaguely gesturing for the two to follow her. "Me and Puck," she said, giggling and taking another sip from her bottle; Harry guessed it was an alcopop, bright blue but barely alcoholic. "Have been drinking since - since - since three!" she chirped. Her expression became incredibly angry when they entered what Harry assumed to be the living room, and Santana shouted something in Spanish. "Brittany! Off the table!"
Brittany hopped off neatly, still grinding her body to the music. Harry gazed around, overwhelmed. Wizarding parties were civil compared to this; Artie was trying to force his tongue down Tina's throat and she was torn between taking her heavy, dark clothing off or putting a stop to it, while Mercedes sat with a relatively sober Rachel, the pair of them texting and taking breaks to speak and sing. Puck was nowhere to be seen, nor were Matt, Finn or Mike. Santana and Brittany were now kissing, Brittany grinding and rutting and making some incredibly strange sounds that were a cross between moans and... Algebraic formulas?
Harry gave Kurt a look, bringing his bag up and removing a bottle of Firewhiskey. He had enchanted the labels so they read as normal Famous Grouse Whiskey bottles and not as Ogden's Finest. Kurt watched in interest as Harry quickly opened the bottle and took a swig, cringing and grimacing at the burning in his throat. "Want some?" Harry asked, his mouth feeling dry. "I've also got some wine?"
"Still not drinking," Kurt opened his arms pointedly. "This is probably only the second time anyone here has gotten drunk - okay, maybe not Puck nor Santana - and there will be agony from the backlash of this." With that said, he bounded over to Mercedes and Rachel, leaving Harry standing on his own.
He grimaced, taking another long swig of the booze. He had stood alone for all of a minute when Santana swooped in on him, pushing a leering Puck at him. "Kiss, kiss!" the girl shrieked, clapping her hands together. "I can have a gay wizard and my straight-but-gay shark can be gay too forever, to make big pretty gaybies!" Santana explained to an enthused Brittany, the blonde girl nodding knowledgeably. The girl wound her fingers in Puck's mohawk and Harry's escaping-from-restraint hair, pressing them closer and closer.
"I am so not drunk enough for this!" Harry groaned, winding out of her grip easily and easily finding a plastic red cup. "Why don't we play I Never?" he suggested to a visibly saddened Santana, the dark-haired girl lighting up immediately.
"Let's play I never!" she squealed, rounding everyone up in a circle; the wizard twitched his fingers and made it so that the truth would always out. Parties were always fun when he did that.
Harry had been forced down between Santana and Kurt, the taller boy giving him a look of terror. Matt and Mike appeared from wherever Puck spawned from, both carrying a tray of shots each. Finn soon followed, smiling docilely with a blush on his face, sitting in the circle. "Okay, okay, um... I never, ever, ever have slept with four different people," Santana cooed. "Ever ever."
Puck and Brittany both took a shot, downing it. "Okay, okay, me next," Puck beamed. "I've never slept with a dude." Puck looked incredibly smug.
Harry rolled his eyes and took a shot, along with Santana and Brittany. "They don't have to be filthy," Brittany said, sounding incredibly smart. "But I've never fucked someone on a hospital bed."
Harry took another shot, Puck barking out a laugh. "My turn," Harry groaned. "Erm... I never had sex before I was thirteen?"
Puck and Matt both took a shot. Kurt piped up, "I've never had my first kiss." With that one, Kurt was the only person to not take a shot - Harry thought that if he went by his earlier statement, he wouldn't do a shot anyway.
"That's disgusting." Santana spat, whimpering a moment later. "I'm so, so sorry, Hummel. You're doomed to have twenty cats and live alone!"
Kurt immediately bristled but didn't spit a remark back.
Puck sighed. "I've never used a glory hole, guys. Ever ever. I know! I'm a pussy." Nobody drank to that one, to Harry's immense disappointment. That would have been excellent blackmail material.
"I've never had dirty thoughts about another dude," Finn contributed, leaning in. "Like, ever. No."
Kurt, Harry, Puck and, amusingly, Artie all downed a shot, although Artie struggled. He grappled forward until someone actually handed him the shot, which said a lot about Artie's ability to hold his drink and the strong spell Harry put up.
Kurt grinned maliciously, giving Harry a slight nudge. "I've never gotten a sexual fantasy from a male's green and silver fingernails."
Puck stiffened, his eyes widening in horror: Santana let out a loud cackle and roared, "Maybe there's hope for you yet, Hummel!"
Puck took a shot, hiding his head in his arm. The Glee club looked at Harry's nails and back at Puck, some painfully amused like Mercedes and Tina, others looking slightly constipated... Or was that Finn's permanent expression?
"This is dull." Harry sighed, downing several more shots in quick succession and ending the spell. "Let's play Truth or Dare. Or Twister! Or Naked Twister!"
"Truth or Dare!" Santana echoed, taking several of the shots herself. Brittany and Puck joined in, finishing the shots quickly.
"You better not puke anywhere, Potter." Kurt growled, yanking the boy back. "When I asked for you to stay mine, I didn't mean for you to get drunk out of your head!"
"I'm not," Harry replied, relatively sober. The only inkling of his not being sober was his eyes; they were slightly glazed. Only very slightly, but it was there. "I won't puke anywhere, Kurtiekins."
Kurt smiled, reassured, taking Harry's hand in his own. "Good. I bought clothing just in case, but..."
Santana had shoved the trays out of the way, the glasses dotted around them, and placed an empty Vodka bottle in the middle. Harry, again, twitched his free hand and placed a compulsion on the group to tell the truth, unless they were very unwilling. He also added another mild compulsion for dares.
"Me, me, me..." Santana chanted, twisting the bottle. The opening landed on Mercedes. "Aretha! Truth or dare?"
"Truth," Mercedes replied, stiffening her chin.
"Do you... or do you not... Have a crush on Matt?" Santana beamed victoriously.
"Do not." Mercedes growled out, the compulsion spell not detecting a fault. "My turn." Mercedes span the bottle and it landed on Tina. "Truth or dare, Tina?"
"Dare!" Tina nodded her head.
"Kiss Artie." Mercedes sighed. Tina shot up eagerly, peppering him with open mouthed kisses. "And stop!" Tina sat down, grinning widely.
Tina span the bottle, landing on Brittany. "Truth or dare?"
Brittany looked between Kurt and Harry's linked hands and thought about Puck's nail dilemma. Well, she mused. If my gay dolphin hasn't had his first kiss, and my gay wizard has the hots for my gay dolphin and sex-shark... Why not put them all together? Her blue eyes lit up in determination. She would try and make sure her bottle spin landed on one of the three boys. "Truth." Brittany said firmly.
"What's your relationship with Santana?" Tina asked curiously, shying away from Santana's suddenly blistering glare.
"We share lady kisses and we're best friends." Brittany nodded to reaffirm her point and span the bottle; it sluggishly landed on Kurt. My gay dolphin has the hots for my gay wizard, but I think my sex-shark would be too much for my gay dolphin so I'll stick with my gay wizard. "Truth or dare, Kurt?"
"Um..." Harry looked up at him with big, gooey eyes, a teasing glint dancing behind the innocence. "Dare," Kurt sighed, giving Harry a fond smile.
"Kiss Harry." Brittany said, "I want to see you get your man kisses on." My sex-shark is upset, Brittany gave Puck a smile. Don't worry, my lovely gaybies.
Kurt stared at Harry in no small amount of horror. Harry's eyes lost their drunken gleam and he sat up, cocking his head to the side. Do you want to? He asked silently, trying not to undermine Kurt but aware of his compulsion spell. Kurt gave him the smallest of nods, his grip becoming tighter on Harry's hand.
Harry shook his hand free and knelt up, placing a hand on Kurt's jaw, another on the back of his neck; and he leant forward, tilting his head slightly, and pressed their lips together. To Harry, it was incredibly soft and incredibly sweet; his magic, however, roared in satisfaction and it coursed through his body, making his nerves sing. To Kurt, it tasted of the alcohol on Harry's lips, and the soft pressure of slightly dry lips on his own. Harry's hands, however, felt like burning electric through his body, and he was immensely pleased his first kiss was with Harry and not someone like Puck or Finn, and there was a curious rush of energy through his body, making him feel mischievous and daring.
He pressed against Harry and dominated the kiss, nipping the smaller boy's bottom lip before flicking his tongue on his bite. Harry ran a hand through Kurt's hair, pushing it loose from the quiff while opening his mouth simultaneously, allowing Kurt entrance. Kurt became hesitant at this point, allowing Harry to coax him through it; and their battle for dominance began again. As the more experienced kisser, Harry won.
"That's hot." Brittany and Santana both held each other, watching the kiss. "I hope they both remember this," Brittany whispered, groaning when they pulled apart. "Oh, come on!"
Kurt gave Harry a shy smile, returning to the game and twisting the bottle. It landed on Rachel, the brunette fanning herself and smiling warmly at the pair. "Dare."
Kurt gnawed on his lower lip, making his mind up. "Kiss Finn."
Rachel's smile dropped slightly, and the girl looked at Kurt in shock. Kurt, the boy hopelessly in love with Finn Hudson, had just dared her to kiss his love. What's changed? She wondered blearily, looking between Harry and Kurt before shrugging; she clambered over to Finn and kissed him chastely, pulling back and returning to her place in the circle.
They played and played until Santana got bored and Harry got mischievous; "How about we play Suck and Blow instead? Does anyone have any playing cards?" Santana eyed him blankly before removing a deck from between her breasts. Harry blinked but shrugged, taking the warm packet. "Okay, sit by people you wouldn't mind kissing. You have to put a card in your mouth and suck it in without using your hands, and then you pass it on to the person next to you using your mouth. You have to blow it into their mouth and if you drop the card, you both have to kiss for three minutes. Simple."
The Glee club quickly arranged themselves so that they were pretty much boy-girl, except in the cases of Brittany, Santana, Harry and Kurt. Brittany was sat next to Kurt, who was pressed against Harry, who was leaning against Puck, who lounged next to Rachel. Harry took another sip from his bottle. "Hey, can I have some of that?" Puck asked, taking the bottle from Harry's hands. "Thanks!"
"Be careful!" Harry burst into laughter when Puck took a deep gulp of the liquid and spat it out immediately.
"Oh my God, I'm burning, I'm burning!" Puck yelled, gagging and spitting into an empty shot glass. "What the hell is that?"
"Whiskey," Harry said, amused. "But Draco likes to make it hotter, makes it fun." Harry snickered when the mohawked boy groaned and he went into his bag, removing the elf-made wine. The bottle was carefully blank and tinted, the crimson drink just calling. "Try this. It's red wine."
Puck grumbled and unscrewed the cap, taking a much-more hesitant sip. "Oh, that's good," he breathed, pouring some into a plastic cup. "Satan! Try this!" Puck handed Santana both of the bottles. "Be careful with the whiskey - Harry's friend has spiked it. Seems like it's your taste, though, but it's a bit pussyish for me. I'm a badass and that weak stuff ain't got nothing on this wine."
"Draco's whiskey mix in the best thing ever!" Harry gasped, aghast. "How can you say it's a pussy drink? I bet you couldn't get through half a bottle!" Santana let out a loud shout and poured the two drinks in one cup, shouting more things in Spanish when she handed the bottles back. Harry poured some into other cups, giving them to the rest of the Glee club.
The card had been going around without a hitch, nobody managing to drop it from their mouths. Santana was too giggly when she was giving it to Brittany, managing to spill her Firewhiskey-wine combination on Brittany's top. Brittany turned to Kurt and pressed the tip of the card against his lips; Kurt giggled, pressing himself further into Harry's body, and sucked back on the card. He turned to Harry and the card passed between them... Only for Brittany to kick Kurt's back and the card fluttered to the floor.
"Man kisses, man kisses!" the blonde girl chanted, Santana joining in after giving a cruel smirk to Puck and mouthing, 'try harder'.
Kurt wasted no time in kissing the darker haired boy, pulling him close. Harry smiled slightly, deepening the kiss and letting his eyes slide shut. Kurt grabbed Harry by his jacket and pulled the smaller boy on his lap, Harry shifting to make himself comfortable and to grind down ever so slightly. Kurt let out the tiniest of moans, Harry nipping his lower lip and sucking on that part. Kurt opened one eye and grinned, kissing one last time before pulling back. Harry whined at the loss. "That was not three minutes." The dark haired boy shifted from Kurt's lap and sighed, crossing his arms.
Puck was so glad his jeans weren't tight in the crotch area, because his spontaneous boner would be so hard to explain away - was that a pun? Oh God, Puck made a pun. In his own head! That wasn't badass at all! But, he mused, was it badass popping a stiffy over two guys kissing? He eyed the two thoughtfully, Harry's legs wrapped around Hummel's waist and his ass just hovering over Hummel's dick, and he shifted again, averting his eyes. Not badass at all - shit, was he gay? Like, gay, gay? With a baby on the way? He just rhymed! He never rhymes! Hummel just moaned! Puck shifted again, drinking the awesome wine Harry brought. Puck wasn't a wine drinker, unless he wanted to get emotional like Satan or horny as fuck but there was something about the wine that was just so different, you know? The whiskey was awful, but the wine. The wine. Like manna, sweet, sweet manna. And the cross-dressing midget just whined. Whined! And he still had his boner! What did he do? What did he do?!
Harry put a new card in between his kiss swollen lips and wiggled his eyebrows at Puck. The mohawked teen finished his cup of wine and flicked the card out of his mouth, grabbing the boy's neck and yanking him forward. Harry let out small wail of surprise, arms flailing. "'Uck-r-man!" Harry squeaked against Puck's mouth, trying to pull his head away. "'Top!"
Kurt bristled, digging his nails into Puck's wrist and ripping his hand away. "Puckerman!" His voice was sharp. "He said stop. Well, top, but I'm sure he meant stop. Or top. Either play the game seriously, or I'm taking Harry to my house so you can bang Santana." Harry stared up at him in awe and amusement, while Puck spluttered. Santana was, thankfully, whimpering to Brittany about something; the rest of the Glee club just stared. It was either the fact that Kurt was telling his bully off for kissing the new kid, or the fact he used the term 'bang', or that it was Kurt shouting at his former bully that was making them shocked. "Don't give me that! You've just kissed a guy. Do you know what that means, Puck? You're going to be the bottom of the food chain, just like me. You're going to get slushied for being a fag - " Puck tried to insist that he was not gay and it was just, like, Harry or something, but Kurt plundered on. "And think about your big gay crisis you're inevitably going to have; you've got a baby on the way whose mother can't decide between having you or your best friend, who still hates you, and you'll have nowhere to turn. And, just so you know, I have more chance fucking Harry because I like cock."
"You're hot when you're angry," Harry whispered into his ear, leaning up. "I like the way you swear." To Harry, it sounded like perfect English, but to Kurt it was one long, low hiss.
By the end of the night, Kurt was trying to hold Harry up; however, Harry kept trying to cuddle him instead of getting into his car. "Kuuuuuurt!" Harry whined, pouting. "Just one hug and then we can go, please, please!"
Kurt grumbled and picked him up, Harry squealing down his ear but wrapping his arms around his neck. "Victory," Harry whispered in Kurt's ear, the taller boy shuddering and nearly throwing him into the Navigator. "You're being a meanie, Kurtsie," Harry cried.
"You're like a clingy child," Kurt replied, getting in the front seat and starting the engine. "Are you sure you're a 'sexual, aggressive drunk'?"
"I didn't want to upset you," Harry replied softly, strapping himself in. "I already took your first kiss and I was kinda' drunk then, so I don't want to like, hurt you or upset you or lead you on or something because you're my new best friend. I think trying to ride you would take it too far, huh?"
"That's sweet," Kurt said drily, rolling his eyes and pulling away from the curb. "However, I didn't say no to you taking my first kiss," Blue eyes met widened green through the rear view mirror. "You haven't upset me, you haven't hurt me, and I don't think you've led me on. Yes, it would be. Don't talk like that around my dad, okay?"
"Okay," Harry chirped, kicking his legs out. "Your dad is cool. I wish I had a dad. I have Sirius, though, and he's good. He keeps calling me James, though, and asking where Remus is, and he keeps asking why Harry's hair is a different colour. I don't have the heart to tell him that he's mentally regressed to the past and I'm Harry and Remus is dead and that Teddy is Remus' son. Teddy's my Godson! He's living with his grandmother at the moment, but once he turns one he gets to come stay with me and Draco's mum, Narcissa, is coming too. Maybe Sevvie will come, too?"
Kurt listened to Harry's rambles, feeling horrified. So that's what Harry meant when he said his other godfather was "insane". "Your dad's name was... James, then?"
"Yeah. James Potter. My mum's name was Lily Evans. What was your mum's name?"
"Elizabeth," Kurt said shyly, pulling up at his house in no time. "My dad's called Burt. Erm... Yeah. Do you mind borrowing my pyjamas?"
Harry unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, opening Kurt's door for him with a flourish. "Of course not!"
Kurt grinned, blushing slightly, and slid out. "Who said chivalry was dead?" He grabbed his bag, locking his car as he strode up to his house. His father's bedroom light was on, but the rest of the house was dark; he unlocked the door and kicked off his shoes, pulling Harry in and gesturing him to do the same. The snow had gotten thicker and fallen faster until it swirled in a flurry on the streets, Harry's car covered in a thick layer of snow. Kurt silently thanked his dad for getting him a car that rivalled a tank because the roads were untouched, Kurt's wheels laden with snow but the wheels unlikely to spin. "Do you want anything to eat, drink?" He locked his front door and took Harry's hand, leading him into the kitchen and flicking the light switch. "Hot milk?"
"Yes please! Could I have some sugar in it, too?" Harry asked quietly, looking around the kitchen. It was filled with Muggle appliances, unlike Harry's kitchen which was filled with magical cookbooks, a Muggle fridge that tried to bite everyone from the influx of magic, a sink with enchanted scourers and cupboards filled with things that refilled themselves.
"Harry... Did you live alone?" Kurt worried he was being too blunt, too forward, but Harry had gone to get Draco. There was no mention of an adult - and Kurt wouldn't be reassured if 'Sirius' was the adult that lived with them, because he was clinically insane. "Before your friend came?" He held out the cup of milk and sugar.
"Yeah," Harry beamed, accepting the warm mug. "You picked up on that, huh?" Harry chuckled, taking a sip of the drink. "Please don't tell anyone. Just give Teddy three months to hit one, and then we'll have adults living with us."
"Three months?!" Kurt exclaimed. "You can't do that, Harry. That's against the law. You're sixteen!"
"Nobody wants us, Kurt," Harry said bitterly. "I'll ask Severus, okay? Ask him to move in with us. Better?"
"What do you mean, nobody wants you?" Kurt pried, leading them down into his basement. It was cold in there, his window nearly buried in snow, but his dad had been brilliant enough to leave him several blankets, a duvet and tonnes of pillows. Kurt couldn't remember owning them, honestly, but his girls normally brought their own sleeping stuff when he stayed at Mercedes' with Tina, so who was he to know what they had?
"Nothing. I'm being dramatic. Actually, nobody wanted to leave their homes to come to America; but Draco's dad is in prison," Kurt whirled around, nearly dropping his cup of warm milk, "Don't say anything about that, okay; his dad got caught up in the terrorism. Don't look at Draco like he's any different, either - he opposed his father in the trial. His mum is an up-and-coming designer and she can't be uprooted. Sirius... Well, that's ones obvious," Harry laughed uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. "There was nobody to come with me, so I just went, you know?"
Kurt nodded his head, but he was dubious. How did Harry have the money to fly out alone? Why would you let a teenage boy live alone for so long? His eyes narrowed. "You didn't tell an adult, did you?"
Harry blushed and opted not to reply, looking pointedly at Kurt's bag, still bulging with clothing. Kurt shook his head and muttered, "Boys," under his breath, handing Harry the bag. "I'll get changed in the closet."
Kurt hurried into his closet, hearing Harry's amused snort and grinning stupidly to himself. He found navy blue, white polka-dotted pyjamas, there only for decoration - he was a man of home-comforts - and changed as quickly as possible, trying to curb the splotchy blush on his face at the thought of another man - well, boy - on the other side of his doors, changing. Peeking through the slit of his slightly open doors made him blush harder; Harry was sluggish from being inebriated and he was wearing only boxers and socks. Wide blue eyes ran over well-defined muscles and he blushed so much brighter, turning his head away and burrowing his face in his hands. He was such a pervert!
"I saw you," Kurt shrieked, momentarily thankful for being in his closet, and gazed up at the smaller boy guiltily. Harry gave him an appraising look, nothing like Kurt was expecting, and a shy smile bloomed on thin lips. "My hands are shaky and I can't pull the shirt over my head. Please could you..." Harry shuffled, the smile dropping, much like his head to his chest. "Alcohol disagrees with me when I get cold."
Kurt tried not to let his eyes linger, or look up and down, and he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He got out of his closet as elegantly as possible, picking the shirt up. "Ah," He licked his lips. "Arms up."
Harry lifted them up, blushing furiously. Kurt noted that Harry's entire body was trembling, covered in raised pricks of goosebumps. He rolled his shoulders and gently pulled the shirt down, wrestling Harry's arms through and letting the shirt drop. "Will you be able to put the pants on?" Kurt asked kindly, already pushing the shaking boy down on his bed and wriggling his legs into the trousers. Kurt looked away once he reached the hem of Harry's boxers and pulled the boy up, his one free hand automatically steadying the smaller boy. Harry let out a noise, much like a squeak or maybe a meow (Kurt snickered inwardly at the mental image) and pulled Kurt's too-large trousers up. "There. Done. But so help me, if you puke, I will kill you."
And just like that, the awkwardness that permeated the air was through, and the two boys dissolved into chuckles and soft apologies. "I really didn't think the sleepover idea through," Kurt admitted, flopping down on his bed and rubbing his arms on the duvet. "What about underwear? Brushing your teeth? I refuse to let you go home in the same clothes you wore tonight!"
Harry laughed softly, turning on his side to stare up at Kurt through thick dark eyelashes. He shrugged one shoulder. "I am really sorry about your first kiss." Harry murmured, his eyes sharp and gleaming. It seemed like the cold had snapped him out of his alcohol addled state and let him crash down. "Drunk and a dare, no less."
Kurt swallowed, trying to not let his uncertainty show. He felt like he'd betrayed himself; his first kiss was supposed to be romantic with his first love, and it would be perfect and red rose petals and lit with sweet-smelling candles... And instead, it had gone to a boy he'd known for all of a week, drunken and messy and nothing like he'd wanted.
But it was okay, because things didn't really pan out the way you expect them to, right? He rolled over and pulled the smaller boy into a hug. "It's okay. First kisses aren't important, are they?"
He felt Harry's mouth turn downwards into a frown on his neck, and the soft bristles of Harry's hair as he shook his head. "First kisses are incredibly important, Kurt." That same random rush of energy came back, only it was sluggish and... sad. If Kurt wasn't a firm believer of science, of denouncing religion in his head although keeping his lips pressed firmly closed, he might've thought it was a divine intervention or a sign. "Your very first kiss..."
Harry trailed off, his magic almost purring from his close proximity with the countertenor. It was happy, coursing through his body and entering Kurt's. He wanted to pull away from the strange sensation, but it was calming, soothing. His magic was typically angry and raging, eager to be used but wanting to destroy, to hunt... Now it only felt warm, like a warm burn from a fire on a cold night.
This fanfiction will be magic centric, with the addition of Glee. Obviously, things are different. They'll be explained in due course; but I'll give you the basic run down.
Harry has repressed his memories of the war because his magic is out of control: he reacts to his memories and more than once (this will be explained later, but I don't want to rush my lovely readers and leave them confused) he has attacked someone unknowingly. Hence, the 'mates and grounding mates' thought. He doesn't know that he needs these "mates", but he does. This will be a threesome fanfiction, and no doubt that will be frustrating for me to right because both Puck and Kurt represent normality and are the epitome of teenage-hood. Harry is some fucked up kid who took out a Dark Lord. Yeah.
Draco is... Well, he's the same cocky boy we know and love, but things are so different that I can't really sort out my thought processes now. Think of him as a gun; you don't always need a gun, but you keep it close by just in case. Now, unfortunately, this gun has been used a lot and comes with it's own cracks and weaknesses and blemishes, but every gun needs someone to make it work. Right now, that person is Harry. Later on, it will be... someone who isn't Harry.