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 Four:

The following day, through the gym session with his team, through classes, and lunch, and the classes afterwards, Harry was a mess of nerves and second thoughts, but as the final bell sounded, as the halls filled with students eager to head home, as Harry trod his way to the choir room, he was filled with a sudden determination not to disappoint, not to fail, not to go back on his word. Harry had made a promise, a commitment, and he'd never backed out of either in his life. He had no intention of starting now.

Seated at the front of the choir room, a borrowed guitar in his lap and twelve pairs of eyes on him, Harry's heart thundered beneath his skin, and he swore he could hear it hammering in his ears. His hands shook the slightest bit, and he imagined he was probably sweating buckets, but he tuned up the guitar strings with an expert ear and deft, fluid fingers, and fortunately, it had the added benefit of reigning in his nerves, if only marginally.

Aware that a few of his friends, or acquaintances, as it were, were settled comfortably among his small audience, Harry briefly wondered about what they thought of his presence there. He looked up and cast his gaze over the eleven members of new Directions. Quinn gave him an encouraging smile, Mike arched an expectant eyebrow. Kurt had his bitch face on, as per usual, and Rachel gave him a thumbs up, her expression almost manically happy.

He gave a small exhale, straightened up on his stool, and began the instrumental introduction of Dire Straits' 'Romeo and Juliet'. Then his queue came, and he began to sing.

"A lovestruck Romeo sang the streets a serenade

Laying everybody low with a love song that he made

He finds a convenient streetlight and steps out of the shade

He says something like, 'you and me babe, how about it?'"

The song didn't really portray his vocal range, but it was a song he'd memorised years ago, and Harry hadn't really had time to learn an entirely new piece. He'd only had a night, after all,

"Juliet, when we made love you used to cry

I said I love you like the stars above, I'll love you till I die

And there's a place for us, you know the movie song

When you gonna realise, it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?.."

Harry finished the song with a repeat of the first verse - the coda - and the closing instrumental break. He received a round of applause, and returned his borrowed guitar to the stand in the corner. Then he settled himself in the seat he'd chosen as his own, second row from the back, directly against the sound proof wall, pulled out his music journal, and scrawled out mindless, unoriginal lyrics into the margins of pages he'd already filled with completed, original songs. He listened with half an ear as Mr Schuester continued his campaign to gather more members, but turned his full attention on the man when he began to speak of that week's assignment.

"This week's assignment is family."

"Pardon?" The enquiry came from the guy in the wheelchair. His name was Artie, a sophomore, and he'd asked what no one else had been willing to.

"Family," Mr Schuester repeated, "Sing a song which says something about your family.. Interpretation is up to you."

Schue left them then, content to allow the group time to discuss and prepare. He wasn't far, mind you, since his office was just next door, but as Harry slumped further in his seat, pen in hand, journal open in front of him, Harry's mind had already begun to wander to other places, to the past, mostly, and to truths he'd have rather forgotten.

Brought from his thoughts as Quinn settled herself in the seat beside his, he managed a smile for the girl, closed his journal, and deposited it in his messenger bag. He'd observed that she'd taken to wearing her Cheerios uniform again, but as she smiled back at him, it seemed as though she didn't seem so comfortable in it as she had before her pregnancy. Harry imagined it had been hard on her, but though he'd offered to listen, Quinn had never thought to confide in him, and regardless, he was rather too wrapped up in his own problems to offer her the complete attention she'd deserved.

"Hey," he greeted, for lack of anything else to say. They'd never been the sort of friends to actively seek each other out, and though Harry had made the effort to try and change that, - they were barely friends at all, really - and her presence beside him was rather disconcerting.

"I just wanted to say that I enjoyed your performance," Quinn explained, "I didn't know you were into music."

Harry shrugged modestly, and replied, "It's not really something I've ever felt the need to boast about."

"Why would you want to, in a place like this?" She retorted, accompanied by a vague gesture of her hands and an out of place expression of bitterness on her softened features. He wasn't sure if she referred to McKinley High, or Lima, but whatever the case, Harry simply nodded, and the subject was dropped.

Instead, they chatted idly about their classes, the homework they'd been assigned that day, and the task they'd just been given by Mr Schuester.

"Do you know what song you'll present?"

"I've got a couple of ideas," he replied, as Mike dropped into the seat in front of Harry. They bumped fists, and Mike welcomed him to the club with a grin.

"Fare warning, be prepared for drama like you wouldn't believe," he insisted, "These people make Pre-Calculus homework the next atomic bomb, I swear to God."

"Guilty," Quinn admitted, shame faced.

"Thanks for the head's up," he acknowledged, sardonic tilt to his lips that might have been a smile.

The trio chatted idly about their classes, and peers, and their respective weekends until Schuester returned to dismiss them. Then Harry gathered up his things, texted his sister that he was ready to leave, and met the girl by his car. They each clambered inside, Vick plugged in her iPod, and Harry pulled out of the lot, headed home.

"What was it like?" Vick queried.

Harry shrugged. "It was fine."

Victoria rolled her eyes, unimpressed by his response, but Harry didn't really have anything else to say, and she relented with a sigh. Instead, she flicked through her iPod library, and Harry grit his teeth, irritated.

"Can you not? Jesus."

Victoria huffed, unplugged her iPod, and opted to listen to her music through her headphones instead.

Harry sighed an inaudible breath of relief, slid in a disc he'd burned some time ago, and Rusted Roots' 'Send Me On My Way' filtered through his speakers. The drive home, otherwise, was uneventful, and after he'd deposited his dirty laundry into the washer with Vick's and the twins', Harry retreated upstairs, and began to make headway into homework he had no desire to postpone.

He was in the midst of conjugating French verbs when his cellphone buzzed to life. The caller ID indicated that it was his erstwhile mother, and Harry briefly contemplated ignoring it. He had no interest in speaking with the woman, but Harry knew that she'd only grow more incessant, and Harry supposed it would be simply better if he got the call over and done with.

"What do you want?"

"Harry," Lily Evans greeted him on the other line, "How are you?"

"Fine," he answered, "What do you want?"

"I'm in town," she explained, "I was hoping to catch up with you and your siblings."

"Not interested," Harry replied. He hung up the phone, switched it off for good measure, and tried to absorb himself in his homework, and failed spectacularly.

With a groan, he retreated into the backyard, sought out his soccer ball in the shed, and proceeded to work through a series of training drills until he was sweat soaked and tired, and his agitation had passed. Then he reentered the house, showered, and made it out in time for dinner.

"What do you think she wants?" Vick asked over their father's lasagna.

"I actually don't give a damn," Harry replied.

"Language," James interjected mildly.

"And I'm not going to go out of my way to find out, either."

"You're not going to see her, then?" Vick queried.

"Nope," Harry confirmed.

The twins glanced between themselves, and simultaneously opined, "Neither."

Vick rolled her eyes, and Harry smiled. It was no secret that Jude and Angus were going through a phase where they thought Harry was the shit, and thus, they'd begun to copy him, his actions, his behaviour, so forth and so forth. This was simply another example in a growing list of them.

Harry wouldn't deny that it was somewhat flattering, but at the same time, the thought that he was a role model was nerve-racking. Nevertheless, he tried his best, and that was all he could do.

"What about you, Vick?" James queried.

Victoria fidgeted, stirred her food around on her plate, and admitted, "It'd be nice to talk to her for a bit. I have questions. About girl things."

Harry grimaced, and across from him, their father shifted in his seat. He appeared distinctly uncomfortable, and Harry wryly acknowledged that James wasn't the only one. Jude and Angus, at 11, were oblivious.

"I can understand that," James acknowledged, "It is, of course, up to you if you'd like to see her."

"I'm not sure yet," Vick answered, "I guess I'll think about it."

Harry ate the last of his dinner, retreated to his room, and finished up with the homework he'd not had the opportunity to complete earlier. Then he switched on his XBOX, wiled away the time with 'Call of Duty', and forgot to think about Lily, her return to Lima, and the possible reasons therein.