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 Twenty-Nine: White Lies

Quinn's acting weird. It's not overt, nothing Harry can call her out on, but she's tense, somehow distant, but also clingy, and the mixed signals throw him off. He doesn't know how to deal with this situation, if he should prod her for answers, or if he ought to just let her sort through her issues alone.

It makes for a rather awkward dinner, unsurprisingly, though again, it's nothing obvious. Their conversation is easy, about their respective holidays, what they each received for Christmas. Quinn talks about volunteering at the Lima Memorial Hospital, Harry speaks of his thoughts on the Euro Challenge, the French Club, and the revelation that Kate will be joining the Steam House team on the 16th of January. All the while, there is a tension that lingers between them, one that remains through their meal, and through the dessert that follows.

Eventually, his nerves get the better of him, and he asks Quinn about it as they leave Breadsticks.

"Is there something wrong, Q?"

"What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?"

Quinn avoids his gaze, however, and Harry is at an impasse. Call her out on her lie, or pretend that he actually believes what she's just said?

"Okay," Harry sighs, "Let me rephrase that. What's the matter, Quinn? You've been acting weird all night, and Santana seemed worried about you earlier today."

"You saw Santana?"

"We ran into each other at the mall," Harry answers, "Don't change the subject. What's eating you?"

"I'm fine," Quinn insists, "There's nothing wrong. I promise."

Harry frowns. Again, he doesn't believe her in the slightest, but to press Quinn further would likely result in an argument, and he has no desire to have a fight in public. Moreover, his dad's on his way to collect them, and the man has no business witnessing that.

"Okay, I'm just going to pretend I believe that because I don't want to have a fight over it," Harry bluntly informs her, "For future reference, just say you don't want to talk about it. I don't appreciate you lying to me."

Quinn flinches. "I'm sorry."

Harry shrugs. "It's fine."

Except it's not. Not really, and they both know it.

-!- -#-

After seeing Quinn to her front door, Harry returns to the car, and settles into the front passenger seat. His dad's got the heater on, and Fleetwood Mac filters from his speakers.

"Trouble in paradise?" James asks, and he's oddly tentative. It's not something Harry's accustomed to seeing from him, though the enquiry itself isn't much of a surprise. James Potter's a perceptive fellow, and it's not as though the tension between he and Quinn wasn't obvious, besides. He was irritated, she was upset, and they hadn't shared a word between them for the entire car ride to Quinn's place.

Instead, Quinn and his dad had chatted idly between them, and Harry had valiantly avoided repeated attempts at eye contact with him through the rearview mirror at every stop sign his father encountered.

In all, it was perhaps the longest 12 minutes of Harry's life. He should know - he'd counted.,

Harry shrugs. "Guess so. Don't really want to talk about it."

"All right," his dad acquiesces, "If you change your mind…"

"I know," Harry answers. That said, even if he did know what was going on with Quinn, he likely wouldn't confide in his parents about it. It's far too personal, or something.

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, but at home, Kate's got Britney Spears blasting from her speakers, and everyone else has made themselves scarce. Beside Harry, James rolls his eyes and strides upstairs to (hopefully) confiscate Kate's speakers, and Harry retreats to his bedroom before he becomes an unwilling witness to the ensuing clash.

Evidently, it's a night of unpleasantness all 'round.

-!- -#-

The last day of his winter vacation, Sunday, passes uneventfully. He does his laundry, and spends most of the day finding new ways to procrastinate. The rest of it is spend doing what little holiday homework he hasn't yet completed, and by the time evening falls, Harry's feeling a little stir crazy. It's too cold to do anything too strenuous, but he takes the dogs for a short walk, bundled up in their jumpers and booties, and washes them down in his bathroom when he gets home.

It's something Harry and Kate were always told to do as kids, to wash away the anti-freeze chemicals that have accumulated in Frodo and Sam's fur before they have the opportunity to lick it off themselves, and although tedious and messy, both siblings have learned to be diligent and thorough about it.

Predictably, both dogs are in high spirits, wagging their tails and licking him for all they're worth. They love walks, and they enjoy baths more, but they settle down quickly enough, warm and comfortable in their beds. Despite Harry's poor mood, the sight of them is enough to bring a smile to his face.

He settles in the entertainment area, downloads some new guitar tabs, and begins teaching himself a new song. He'd draw, but in the mood he's in, he's more likely to break his pencil than produce something halfway decent, and he has no desire to make his mood worse. Instead, he broods over Quinn - and there disagreement - some more, plays his guitar, and awaits his mother's summons for dinner.

He frequently checks his phone, too, because he misses his girlfriend despite himself, and they haven't gone a day without talking to each other since even before they'd gotten together.

He wonders if his attachment is healthy. He wonders, also, if it matters. Mostly, he just wonders if Quinn misses him as much as he misses her, and he can't fathom how he can be simultaneously angry and upset with someone, pining for them all the while. It's utterly baffling.

Author's Note: I should have added this chapter onto the end of the last. The second half is very much a filler, but I hope you're all looking forward to Harry's second term at WMHS.

I had to look up whether or not it's safe to walk pets in snow, because we pretty much never get snow where I live, and when we do, it's not enough to start worrying about whether or not my dog will get frostbite.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Leave a review? I'm hoping to hit the 100 reviews mark this chapter, you see. Want to help a gal out? If not, until next time, -t.