Welcome to the Jungle

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

Part One: Fifteen

Chapter Nineteen: The Long Day Is Over

That evening, Mike doesn't ask him about his grandparents. Instead, he helps Harry with the newest kata he's learned, and then they spend a while sparring while their teacher, Sensei Nick, helps out the others. Mike kicks his ass, but it's a close thing. Mike's not familiar with the Tae-Kwan-Do and Jujitsu forms Harry occasionally employs, but he is a black belt in Karate and a blue belt in Judo, and it's certainly an experience Harry won't soon forget.

"Same time Thursday?"

Mike grins. "You're on, dude."

In the foyer of the community centre, Kate's in an animated conversation with a couple of the girls in their Karate class. Their in the same grade as her, though attending another school, and Harry's already forgotten their names. They're nice though, if a little boy crazy, and Harry avoids them like the plague.

Mike does, too.

"Man, I can't wait until Thanksgiving."

"You and me both, dude," Harry answers. "Don't know how you do it."

On top of his involvement in the Debating and Scholastic Decathlon teams, his two Martial Arts classes, the basketball training, and his regular academic commitments, Mike works a couple of shifts at his uncle's Chinese restaurant each week, attends a few dance classes, and also has to sit through a piano lesson every Wednesday. Through it all, he has somehow maintained a fairly active social life, and Harry feels exhausted just thinking about it.

"I got mad skills, man."

Harry laughs. "Clearly."

"How does Quinn deal with everything? You're pretty busy too, right?"

Harry shrugs. "She's got her own things, you know? Her youth group and volunteering and all that. We manage."

Mike nods his acknowledgement. "That's cool, dude. You're lucky she gets it."

"Brittany doesn't?"

"Brittany doesn't really give a shit, to be honest," Mike shrugs, "I mean, she's awesome, but we're not serious. We're just… enjoying each other's company."

"Nice." They bump fists. "I guess I'm not really surprised. You and Hermione seem to have something going on…?"

Mike frowns. "Not really. I mean, I like her a lot, but as long as she's with Krum, I'm not going to make a move. That's just… not cool."

Harry nods his acknowledgement, unsure of what to say, or do. He can respect Mike's stance on the matter, however, but as Harry's phone buzzes with a message that his father's waiting outside, they don't speak more about it.

"Catch you later, man," Mike bids.

"Yeah, tomorrow morning, bright and early," Harry grimaces. Mike laughs. "See you, mate."

Kate's already gotten the message, so Harry's unsurprised when she pulls away from a group hug with her new friends to join him at the front door. They step outside, careful to take stock of their surroundings, and find their father's car idling in the pick-up zone.

"Shotgun front," Kate declares, and hurries towards the car. It's cold out, and so Harry follows her lead, disgruntled when Kate blasts Lady Gaga from her iPod via the car's speakers.

"Not so loud, Katherine, Christ," James chides.

Kate acquiesces with a huff, and glares moodily out of the passenger side window. Harry leans between the two front seats, eyes on his father's face.

"Are we stopping for dinner? I'm starving."

"You ate literally two hours ago," Kate opines, "How the hell are you hungry now?"

He tugs at the end of her braid. "How the hell are you not?"

Their dad intervenes before Kate can lash out, and Harry chuckles behind them both. "Your mum's left you some dinner. It's roast beef."

Satisfied with that answer, Harry settles back in his seat, and spends the car ride home texting his friends. Before he knows it, however, they've made it home, and he descends, eagerly, upon the food that has been left for him. As his father had said, it's roast beef, with a side of loaded potatoes, steamed vegetables, and gravy, and as expected, it tastes fantastic.

"Where's Nain and Taid?" Kate asks.

"In the apartment," James answers, "They're determined not to intrude on our lives any more than they have to."

"But I like that they're here."

James smiles. "Maybe you should tell them that."

Kate nods to herself, determined. "Maybe I will."

-!- -#-

After understanding the basics, Geometry isn't particularly difficult. It is, however, time-consuming, which is why he doesn't even think about it until he's finished the rest of the homework he has due the following day, finished at least 50 per cent of what's due throughout the week, and completed all of his readings for good measure. Blessedly, the 24 page Geometry booklet isn't due until Friday, but that still leaves him with at least six pages to complete before he calls it a night.

No wonder Puck was bitching about it earlier.

He kind of wants to bitch about it, too.

All the same, he picks up his pencil with a reluctant sigh, and resigns himself to the fact that he probably won't get an opportunity to play some COD that night. He's already exhausted, he still has to put his laundry (presently in the wash) in the dryer, and the shower is more or less calling his name.

And then there is Quinn, of course, whom he has texted intermittently all evening, whom he still needs to have a conversation with about his (brief) sexual history, whom has taken to calling him at 11 o'clock, every night, to chat a while before she goes to bed.

He wonders if she's going to ask about his grandparents, and he sort of hopes she doesn't.

It's not that he doesn't trust her, per se, but rather, it's the fact that when people find out, their attitudes always change. It's not always a conscious thing, but it's noticeable regardless, and it's also why Harry's barely stayed in contact with the friends he'd made in Chicago.

He doesn't want his heritage, or his family's wealth, to impact the relationships he's made here. He's not ashamed, nor embarrassed, by it - in fact, he's rather proud of his family's history, of the accomplishments they've made over the generations - but for once in his life, he'd just like to be one of the guys, no more, and no less.

He's kidding himself, of course - he'll never get to be 'one of the guys' - but a guy can dream, at least..

-!- -#-

Quinn calls when he's in the laundry, transferring his clothes from the washer to the dryer. His father's already locked up the house, the alarm set, and the air is chilled with the approach of winter. As far as he can tell, no one else is up, and the thought is oddly isolating.

"Hey," he greets her, "How has your night been?"

Uneventful," Quinn replies. "How's yours?"

"Long. Geometry's a drag."

As he closes the dryer, and ensures it's started it's spin cycle, Quinn huffs a laugh. "Sucks to be you."

"I will remember this conversation in 12 months, and I will feel no sympathy for your suffering."

Quinn laughs outright then, and Harry smiles despite himself. He's fond of her laugh, fond of making her laugh, and he's sure it's something he'd be happy to do for a long time to come. The thought is somewhat terrifying, the fact he's prepared to commit to Quinn for however long she'll have him, and he opts not to think too deeply about it.

"I promise not to hold it against you, in that case."

"Why thank you," Harry exaggerates an English accent, "You're too kind."

He can imagine Quinn's smirk on the other end of the line. "I do try."

Alas, the light-hearted conversation doesn't last. Quinn eventually turns the topic to the revelations of Friday night's party, and although unsurprised by the change in subject, it's not something he's not particularly eager to talk about. He does so, regardless.

"THere's really only been one girl before you, first kiss notwithstanding. Her name was Marie Bernard, and last year, we spent about five months messing around. We weren't really dating - at least, we never labelled anything - but nothing really came of it. She found out her family would be moving back to France, I found out we were moving to Ohio, and I guess neither of us wanted to deal with the eventual breakup. At least, that's why I never bothered."

"Did you love her?"

"No, not really. I mean, I always knew we were a temporary thing. She's still a friend, but just… no. No lingering feelings, or whatever. It was mostly physical, I think. Curiosity, even."

"And, um, do you expect that?"

Harry blinked, startled. "What? No. I'm not expecting you to put out, or whatever, Q. I mean, I knew going into this that you're serious about your promise, and I'm not about to pressure you into disregarding that. That's just… that'd be a douche thing to do."

Quinn sighs on the other end of the line. "Thanks. I… I guess I needed to hear that."

Harry nods, and rolls his eyes, because duh, of course his girlfriend can't see him do it. "It's fine, Q. It's important."

As Quinn falls thoughtfully silent, Harry packs up everything he'll need for the following day. His school things, his work uniform, a change of clothes to wear after his morning training session with the basketball team. As he does, Linkin Park filters from his speakers, and he wonders idly if he ought to switch to something a little more mainstream.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Quinn answers, "It's just… sometimes it's really easy to forget I've only known you for a few months. It sometimes feels like you've always been here."

"The feeling is mutual, I guess? Sometimes I forget, too."

They chat a while longer, about lighter, inconsequential things, before Quinn calls it a night. After a shower, he does the same, and it's not long before he is out like a light.

The next thing Harry knows, his alarm is shrill in his ears, and he's not sure he's slept at all.