*Authors Note: Third times the charm? Let's see if this posts correctly. This chapter is the start of some interlude chapters that aren't directly connected to any episodes. Most of these interlude chapters are scenes that I first wrote when I began the story before I started closely following the episodes. Hopefully they flesh Harry and her relationships out a bit more.*

XXXXXX

Since the start of her cleaning business Harry often found herself hanging out with Puck whenever they finished for the day, and as a result she often was at the Hummel's because Puck wanted to hang out with Finn. She didn't mind of course; the Hummel's were very polite and welcoming. Of course, Harry reasoned, that didn't make it any easier for her to go back inside the house when she had just left it, and all because her stupid car chose tonight to stop working. Harry awkwardly poked her head into the Hummel's living room, "Hey, um, can anybody give me a ride home? My car's not co-operating with me right now."

"Sure, kid, I'll give you a lift, I was just on the way out to grab some milk since somebody" Burt shot an amused glance at Finn, "decided to drink all of it."

"That be great, thanks Mr. Hummel, I really appreciate it." They walked out of the house, Burt taking a look around to try to figure out which car belonged to the girl. There were several parked on the street, but only one truly stood out. It was a shit-box if he'd ever seen one. It was covered in rust, had a myriad of dents all over it, and it was obvious that it was on its last leg.

"No problem, kid. If you want a can take a look at your car tomorrow. If it needs anything major done with it I can tow it to my shop, and do it there."

"Thanks for the offer, but, I don't have a lot of money to spare for car repairs right now."

"I'll take a look at it for free, and if anything needs to be done with it I'll contact you and we can work something out."

"Are you sure, Mr. Hummel? That's an awful lot to do for me. You barely know me after all."

"Course I'm sure kid, you're a friend of Kurt and Finn's." They climbed into his truck, "So where do you live?"

"I'm at 117 Franklin Road, do you know where that is?"

"That's Lima Heights, right?"

"Yes, just a block from the 7-11." He nodded in understanding. The drive passed in silence, she gazing seemingly absented-mindedly out the window. She looked uncomfortable, Burt thought, like she wasn't used to being treated so kindly.

XXXXXXXX

The noise of machinery and the smell of grease and oil met Harry as she wandered into Hummel's Auto Shop. Her car was parked in the front lot, looking sad and pitiful next to the cars around it. She looked around for Mr. Hummel but could only see a stranger in a Hummel Auto jumpsuit.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Mr. Hummel, is he in?"

"Yeah, he's back in his office. Are you Harry? He told me to send you straight back. It's just through that door and up the stairs." He jerked his head toward the back of the shop.

"Thanks, appreciate the help." She called back as she headed to the office. Knocking on the door, she heard a voice calling her back into the office.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hummel, how's my car doing? Any chance it can be salvaged for cheap?"

"It's definitely fixable; it's just your starter that went, although your transmission is probably going to go soon, so you're going to want that to be replaced before it actually kicks the bucket."

"That sounds expensive, I don't know if I can afford that."

"Don't worry about the cost. I'll do the labour myself for free, as a favour, and I can get you the parts at cost. So, it'll be a fraction of what it would be normally. If you can't afford the parts right now, just let me know and we can work out a payment plan."

"I appreciate that Mr. Hummel, but why are you doing this for me? What are you getting in return?"

"I'm getting nothing in return. You're friends with both of my kids, they both like you. I know, from them, that you use your car to get to school, and for your job. I figure that your job is important to you, that you depend on that money. If you can't get to it then you're in a bigger pinch. Basically, it's good karma and being a good neighbour to help you out that way. It's the least I can do."

"You're doing all this because it's neighbourly?"

"Yeah,"

"No ulterior motive? You're just that nice a guy?"

"I know you don't know me that well, but trust me when I say that I genuinely enjoy looking out for and caring about people, especially my kids' friends."

"Okay, I appreciate the help with my car. Let me know how much I owe you. I'll get it to you as soon as I can."

"I will, just before you go, I had one more question." Mr. Hummel appeared nervous for the first time in the whole conversation, nervous, but with a determined stance to his body.

"What?"

"Kid, is everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be Mr. Hummel?"

"It's just," he tossed a glance through the office window towards his workshop. "How long were you living in your car?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me." He snapped and she physically cringed away from him, then internally kicked herself for being so damn obvious. Shit, shit, shit, shit, what could she tell him that he would accept as truth? What would he believe?

"Just, just a couple weeks. I've got an apartment now." She insisted, narrowly avoiding her tongue tripping over the words.

"And where are your parents?" He calmly demanded. Oh god, this felt like talking with Mr. Weasley. How do you lie to that kind of sincerity and concern? Since when did people ever care about her? No muggle had cared about her before Lima, she didn't understand this. Why was this so overwhelming? "Kid, I need an answer." Mr. Hummel cut off her spiralling thought process. She blurted out the first answer that came to her mind.

"Dead." His face fell, oh, he was sympathizing with her. That was odd.

"Kid, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Mr. Hummel, they died when I was young. I don't remember them enough to mourn them."

"I'm still sorry, no kid should be without their parents."

"I'm no kid."

"I got that. You're a lot more grown up then you should be." She shrugged in response, staring determinedly at the floor, not meeting his eyes, just wanting it all to end. "What are you running from?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. What are you running from? I'm not going to accept any lies. I don't need specifics. You don't need to tell me names or places. But I need to have an idea of what you're running from so I can keep you safe." A bitter chuckle slipped out from her lips.

"Safe? You think you can keep me safe? Nothing and no one can keep me safe. I'm just putting the inevitable off a little longer."

"I'm going to try. Let me know what we're up against." She shrugged again, still staring at the floor, before slowly, almost unconsciously, backing her way into the nearest corner and sinking to the floor, her knees pressed against her chest.

"My husband."

"What?" He sank to the floor in front of her.

"You asked what I was running from. That's what; I'm running from my husband."

"Jesus, kid, how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"How the hell are you married?"

"My guardians, my aunt and uncle, were told that they could get rid of me on my sixteenth birthday, never have to see me again, and for a bonus they'd get several thousand pounds. All they'd have to do was sign my name on a marriage contract. They were more than happy to."

"Christ, kid."

"Yeah, that's kind of what I thought when they told me."

"Why?" She finally looked up at him, a bitter smile twisting her lips.

"Because as far as my Aunt and Uncle knew I had nothing to my name, so this way they could get a nice profit from having raised me, and they wouldn't have to see me ever again. It was a nice win-win in their minds. But they didn't realize that my father's side of the family was a little more important than theirs. I'm the last living descendent of some noble and ancient houses and because of that my inheritance was going to make me rich as all sin. By marrying me my husband and his family were able to combine all the titles and riches I would receive when I reached my majority with their family's already considerable wealth and power. Of course, they'd worked it out so none of it was going to be legally mine in the end. The bastards."

"Couldn't you have gone to the cops or something? Surely that shit isn't legal."

"My marriage contract was rather thorough. Legally I don't have a leg to stand on. The only way I could escape my marriage was to run." She shrugged. "No one knows where I am."

"Kid, I don't know too much about marriage contracts back in Britain, but I assure you that in the States that's illegal. When you want to fight that contract and stop hiding I will help you however I can. I'll get you the best lawyer I can and we will fight this and we will win. The United States government will not allow that kind of thing to happen." She snorted at his words.

"Mr. Hummel, I have no intentions of ever fighting it; I know that contract can't be broken, I'd rather just keep living my life the way it is now. I'm safer. If I fight then they'll know where I am."

"Okay, kid, just know I'm here if you need me." He looked devastated, that was surprising. Well maybe not. He was a mechanic, he fixed things right? Must be hard to find a problem he couldn't fix.

"Don't look me up, okay? Nothing that I've told you today. My husband's family has very advanced search settings that notify them every time someone searches online for anything related to their family, which now includes me. Just don't look, please?" He nodded earnestly.

"Sure, kid. Umm you can feel free to tell me no, but if you want there's space for you at my place. I don't like the idea of you living by yourself; no one is there in case you got hurt, nobody would know, if they found you, for a few days."

"That's true, but if they do find me then whoever is with me at the time is in danger. My husband, his father, they're ruthless. I know that his father has killed people before, lots of people. He spent many years as part of a terrorist cell, and in doing so he tortured a considerable amount of people."

"If what you're saying is true, how the hell is he free?"

"He's an expert manipulator, he gets the head of government in his pocket, bribes those he needs to, threatens those he can't bribe. He's basically got a 'get out of jail free' card for anything because he controls all the higher-ups."

"Exactly how corrupt is the British government? They're letting terrorists run free, letting themselves be controlled by them, allowing children to be forced into marriages. How has no one figured out exactly how terrible they are yet?"

"Most of the government isn't corrupt; they do their jobs to the best of their abilities, honestly thinking that they are working for people that actually represent the majority of the population. It's only the highest of the politicians that are actually aware of any wrong-doing, and my father-in-law makes sure not to make them aware of the others that he is manipulating. They think it is only them, or perhaps only them and a few others, they choose to believe that what they are doing, while wrong, is only a small portion of what happens at the ministry, and that as a result it is okay for them to be manipulated. It's terrible when you think about it, but most workers are as moral as you are."

He still looked deeply troubled, but Harry didn't know how to reassure him. She needed to get out of here, go home, try to recentre. Figure things out from there. She looked him in the air and realized that this was one of the few times in her life that an adult had ever made the effort to meet her on her level, without towering over her, he'd reduced his power just to talk with her. What an odd man. Odd but good.

"Mr. Hummel, I going to go home now. Thank you for your support, and yes I will take the payment plan for the car repairs. But this has just been a lot and I'm pretty done."

"Okay, kiddo, do you want a ride home?"

"No, thank you, I think I need to walk. Thank you again for everything." He nodded, standing up, before reaching down and offering her a hand up. She shook her head minutely, unable to take the physical contact. She got up on her own, thanked him again, but quickly left before he could say anything more.

She knew the walk home was going to be long, but she needed the chance to try to recentre herself, and being outside would hopefully help her stay in the present instead of spiralling her thoughts into the past.