All Or Nothing

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Glee' or 'Harry Potter'. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter Three:

It was inordinately fortunate that Harry and Victoria's training schedules for soccer and field hockey, respectively, was identical, because it ensured only a few minutes were spent waiting for each other. It also meant their games would be on at the same time and on the same day, but neither sibling needed the presence of their father at games to know they had the man's support. All the same, the man made an effort to alternate each week, and they appreciated his attendance.

As Harry met his sister by his car, however, and the pair clambered into the navigator, Harry's only concern was getting home, getting changed, and getting fed, because as per usual, Coach Hooper had been merciless, and Harry was famished. It was nearly five o'clock and the man would still be at work until six, but their father never failed to cook leftovers for the sake of his four children, three of whom were growing boys, and the last was Victoria, who could put away a fair deal herself, at least when she put in the effort.

"What's up?" He greeted idly, stopped at a train crossing, and drummed his fingers to the beat of the Eagles filtering from the speakers. Vick had domineered control of the music again, and Harry was exactly tired enough not to give a damn.

"Nothing," she replied, "The usual." She paused, uncharacteristically hesitant, and asked, "Have you thought about joining the Glee Club?"

Surprised by her question, and with an Ian Flemming quote on his mind, Harry stepped off the break and drove over the train tracks, and spared a moment to consider his answer..

"I have, yes. Why do you ask?"

Victoria shrugged, glanced out her window, and explained, "The cheery hoes were talking about it during lunch. They said it's for losers, but I think it would be fun to join them. They look like they have fun, anyway. I mean, did you see them perform 'Empire State of Mind' the other day? They were really good."

"If you want to join them, Vick, than there's nothing stopping you but your own insecurities."

The rest of the drive home was spent in a thoughtful silence, Harry lost in his musings of his own hypocrisy, Victoria lost in the uncertainty of what she really wanted, and only the sound of The Eagles' 'Peaceful Easy Feeling' to break the quiet that had fallen over them.

Harry pulled up by the curb, made his way into the house, and once he'd deposited his training gear into the laundry hamper, he made his way upstairs, luxuriated in the hot spray of a high pressure shower, mulled over the option to join Glee Club once again, and dressed himself in a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt without a resolution. He made his way into the kitchen regardless, helped himself to a couple of slices of yesterday's homemade pizza, and found Victoria sprawled out across the sectional, the television switched to Grey's Anatomy, and her hair damp from her own shower, her gaze unfocused, her mind apparently elsewhere.

Harry left her to it, made his way into the soundproof basement, and settled himself at the upright piano they had there. His guitars were hung up along the walls beside the others his family had accumulated over time, along with Vick's violin and flute, harry's alto saxophone, and the banjo his father had purchased after a bizarre summer he spoke about fondly, but had never played since. Julian's drum set was in one corner, Augustine's cello was propped up in another, and a chest of music books was tucked into a third, untouched by the eldest Potter siblings since Harry had taken to writing music, and since Vick had quit her lessons.

Harry trailed his fingers along the ivory keys, hummed under his breath, and imagined himself in Glee Club. He was friends with some of the members already, Quinn and Mike, and Santana, when she wasn't a raging psycho, but he hadn't performed in front of an audience since before Robert had died, and it was not something he'd been prepared to start again.

"Are you going to play something, or are you just going to stare all night?"

Harry glanced up, startled, and was bewildered to see his father a few steps behind him. Apparently, he'd snuck in while Harry was lost in thought, and he'd been too out of it to notice.

"I'm thinking."

"Clearly," James quipped. He rolled over the drum kit's stool, sat awkwardly, and looked expectantly at Harry, who fidgeted uncomfortably under his father's gaze. "What's on your mind?"

A part of Harry rankled at the concept of confiding in anyone, let alone his father, but the man had a way of putting things in perspective that Harry never failed to appreciate, and he doubted that this time would be any different. Besides, James had always encouraged communication in any relationship, and it wasn't as if there was anyone else Harry could talk to.

"I've been asked to join the Glee Club," harry began, "The school's show choir. They're essentially the hockey team's favourite target, but they're talented, extraordinarily so, and I'm not sure if I should."

"I don't think this is a matter of should or shouldn't," James answered, arms crossed over his chest, "I think this is a matter of doing what you want, versus what is expected of you, in which case, you have to decide what is more important to you: your interests, or your appearance?"

James got to his feet, returned the stool to it's place, and ruffled Harry's hair as he made his way out of the basement. Harry was left to his thoughts, and as he pressed his fingers to the familiar keys, his answer should have been easy.

Except in truth, it really wasn't.

Harry played absently, random excerpts of long-memorised piano accompaniments, a few original melodies, discordant tunes that hurt his ears, but by the time his father called him up for dinner, Harry hadn't come to a decision, and once he'd eaten, he wouldn't have the chance to dwell on it. A stack of homework waited for him, not to mention the various reports and essays he was steadily trudging through, but as he greeted his brothers with a monosyllabic grunt, took his usual seat at the dining table and dug eagerly into the lasagna and vegetables his father had prepared, Harry pushed all thought of Glee, and school, out of his mind, and instead focused on his family, and his food.

Over the meal, Jude and Angus monopolised conversation, but afterwards, as Vick cleaned the kitchen, as Jude and Angus disappeared upstairs to start their own homework, and as James settled down for some undisturbed peace in front of the television, Harry followed his brothers' lead, disappeared into his bedroom, and immersed himself in the homework his unforgiving teachers took undeniable satisfaction in assigning. Mozart played from his speakers, an embarrassing study crutch, but as he pushed his square rimmed glasses higher up his nose, Harry comforted himself in the knowledge that it was something about him no one would ever learn.

Some time later, once he'd finished up his homework and made some decent headway in his English research, Harry made his way downstairs, found that his brothers had already been sent to bed, and dropped gracelessly on the couch beside his sister. She and their dad had just started watching an episode of NCIS, and he settled back to watch it too, content to get his mind off things for the next forty minutes, to unwind from the knot of tension his study and indecision had caused, to relax with his family and to involve himself with some other people's problems, far more extreme than his own.

Harry's distraction lasted all of ten minutes, by which point he'd grown bored, and his mind had begun to wander, to school, to Glee Club, and the ever nagging question of what was more important to him: music, or appearance?

A lesson his father had told him years ago came to mind, and the memory was as clear to him now as though it had happened only a day ago, instead of that autumn day eight years ago, when Harry was nine, when the world was small, and when Harry had first been exposed to the reality of what it meant to be the grandson of one of the wealthiest men in the western world.

'Remember, Harry, if they can't accept you for you, than none of them are worth your time.'

Harry looked at his father now, and smiled to see him engrossed in the show. He caught Harry's eye though, and smiled, and Harry's resolution seemed clear, and as he got to his feet, and made his way to the stairs, he wondered why he'd been so uncertain to begin with.

All the same, the soccer player made it to his attic bedroom, opened up his Facebook, and opened up a message to Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson. His fingers flew across the keyboard, his desired message appeared on the screen, and for the briefest moment, Harry hesitated as his cursor hovered over the send button. He hardened his resolve though, took a deep breath, and clicked send with eyes closed.

The message read as followed:

Hi there

Is your offer to join the Glee Club still open?

Regards

harry

And as they both replied with a resounding 'yes', Harry didn't regret his decision.

Not for a second.