Authors Note: Hello everyone! I just want to apologize about the slight wait on this update. As you know, I normally update every weekend, but this weekend was kinda hetic so I wasn't able to sit down and write a chapter for you guys. Sorry it's a little late, but you know what, compared to my other stories, this is better than nothing!
I love all of you guys! Thank you for all of the feedback and following! You're all awesome :)
Alice Inamorata

Rachel Berry and the Victimizing yet Erotic Glares of Quentin Fabray
Alice Inamorata

"…What?" Rachel gasped. Her palms were sweating, creating a thin layer of film between them clasped tightly in her lap. Inside of her, she felt her heart speeding up. Was this real life?

"Honey," Hiram soothed, placing a hand on his daughters forearm, "I know this is hard to process, but it's for the best."

Rachel had no choice but to nod. She didn't want to have an outburst – that would make her fathers nervous and send her to therapy again. She didn't want to stomp up to her room and slam the door because that would create tension the moment she decided to emerge. In all honesty, Rachel didn't know what to think; she knew it was for the best, hell, it was for the best, but Rachel had never prepared for this ultimatum. She thought that her fathers would go to therapy and patch things up, but obviously, things weren't that simple.

"Y-yeah…I know." She nodded again, keeping her eyes locked on the carpet. "Well, it's your decision. You two need to work things out whatever way you can."

"Honey, we don't want to get you involved." Leroy stated, taking a sip of his beer. Next to Rachel, Hiram cringed and the girl felt it. Anger began to boil inside of her.

You don't want to get me involved? You had me involved the moment you grabbed your first beer.

"Yes," Hiram sighed, rubbing Rachel's arm. It was hot now, slightly sticky from the sweat that was beginning to ooze out of her pores. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."

"Or me." Leroy stepped in, snapping his head to his daughter. "You can talk to me or him."

"Would you stop..?" Rachel pleaded, looking at her father across the room with sad eyes, "Stop making me choose between you and him. It's childish."

"I never said I was making you choose, Rachel," Leroy stated, motioning his hand to the side. "I was stating you could talk to me or him."

"Well," Rachel began, standing up and smoothing out her skirt, "You're making him seem inferior. And that's making yourself look better. Which obviously, you're not if you're sitting there sipping your cheap beer on Christmas Eve."

"Excuse me?" Leroy stood up, placing the drink aside. He stood firm in front of the tiny Rachel Berry, his brown eyes leering down at her.

"You're the one who feels inferior." She stated strongly. Behind her, Hiram shook in fear, but he knew he couldn't stop her. She was a Berry. And a strong one at that. "You need to get over yourself and think of your family. You need to think of me." She pointed her index finger to her chest, "And obviously I'm not that important to you."

She turned on her heels, marching up the stairs as Leroy yelled after her.

"You get back here young lady! Rachel Barbra Berry! You get back here! I am your father!"

Rachel turned back to him on the staircase, "No you're not. My father died a long time ago."

She proceeded to march up the stairs with as little attitude as possible, but when she door shut behind her, she collapsed onto her bed. Wrapping her arms around the pink pillow, she pushed her face as far as possible into it.

And she slowly let a scream emerge from her throat, rippling against her lips and into the pillow. But slowly, that scream became a plead – a cry. Her body rattled with such emotion that she, Rachel Berry, could not even contain.

The flight was endurable, but Quentin didn't even think he would be on yet another flight once he got home.

"Quentin, honey," Judy Fabray called, pulling her pink luggage down the stairs. Quentin had just collapsed on the couch after arriving home, only to have to pick up his bags once more and board another flight. "We're going to Lima."

Quentin looked at his mother, who peered down at him sweetly with a gentle smile. She had the same eyes at Quentin, but he had the facial expressions of his father. The boy began to seethe with anger before snapping out of it, looking back up at his mother.

"Why are we going to Lima?" Quentin asked, sitting up slowly; his back and legs ached from being cramped in a flight for two hours. "Are we going to see Fran?"

Judy nodded, smiling at her youngest child, "Yes! We're going to spend the Christmas holiday there. She invited us the other day, but for some reason I had a hard time sending Aveena to Hogwarts to send you the letter." Judy looked over to the window where a small, brown and white owl sat on a perch. It hooted in delight, seeming rather fond of its idea to disregard the favor Judy had asked.

The blonde rolled her eyes, placing a reassuring hand on Quentin's shoulder, "And your father won't be there, Q. It'll just be Frannie, Christian, Dahlia, you and I."

Quentin beamed, "And Storm."

Judy shook her head as Quentin slowly sat up and grabbed his Hogwarts trunk. "The husky doesn't count as a guest."

Quentin narrowed his eyes, "He doesn't like you because you don't consider him family. That's why he growls at you."

"And he loves you because you always sneak him turkey under the table."

"Well, Frannie needs to learn how to cook."

"Mum?"

"Yes, Quentin?"

"Are we there yet?"

Judy sighed.

"We just got on the flight."

"…how about now?"

"No, Quentin."

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"I'm hungry."

"You just had a jam and jelly sandwich."

"…yeah…"

Judy sighed again.

"Mum?"

"Quentin. Shut. Up."

"Mum!" Frannie squealed, running towards her mother and hugging her tightly. Judy Fabray laughed, wrapping her thin arms around her oldest daughter. Quentin tagged behind, smiling to himself, slightly worried at the meeting.

"Hello dear," Judy cooed, cupping her daughters face in her hands, kissing her forehead. "Hi Christian!" As Judy walked to Frannie's husband, Frannie took a look at Quentin and smiled, looking at him with tear-filled eyes.

"You look amazing," Frannie whispered, running her hand against Quentin's cheek. "You're all grown up…and you have stubble!"

Quentin laughed, "You did move away two years ago." He wrapped his older sister in a hug, kissing her cheek. "I've missed you."

Frannie nodded, "I've missed you too, regardless of what Dad has told you."

Quentin's face fell.

"I didn't believe him," Frannie said quickly, placing a hand on Quentin's shoulder, "I believe Mom over him. So don't worry."

Quentin didn't even want to know what his father had said about him, but he knew it wasn't good by Frannie's tone. So when she wrapped her arm through his, hugging her little brother like it was the first time, she guided him over to Christian who was stood beside his daughter, Dahlia. The little girl looked up at Quentin with curious, blue eyes that matched her fathers perfectly. She had Frannie's golden locks and facial structure, but her fathers perfect eyes and smile.

"Dahlia," Frannie spoke, kneeling down to her daughters level, "This is Uncle Quentin. He's coming to visit for Christmas."

The girl must have been around two years old – Quentin did the math to make sure he was correct. So he too knelt down in front of the girl, pulling something out of his pocket: it was a small, keychain with a lion on it. He knew it was Gryffindor's animal, but he thought a snake would be too terrifying.

Dahlia slowly stepped away, holding onto her mother's hand tightly. "It's okay baby," Frannie comforted, rubbing her daughters back.

Quentin took the time to notice how adorable Dahlia looked in her thickly padded parka.

"It's a lion, see?" Quentin spoke, trying to be as gentle as possible. He was never good with children. "Isn't it cute?"

Dahlia slowly reached out, touching the glittering red-and-gold lion, "Lion."

Frannie smiled at Quentin, nudging her head towards Dahlia. "His name is…Garth."

The little girl let go of her mothers hand, walking forward to take the glittering item from her Uncles hand. After examining it and making sure it was good enough, she smiled up at Quentin happily.

"Thank yoo."

"You're welcome."

Rachel Berry sighed, "I hate my life."

"Don't say that, baby." Hiram said, stirring the roasted potatoes. "He still loves you."

"And why do we need to celebrate Christmas?" Rachel cried, pacing back and fourth on the tiled floor, the heel of her shoes clicking. "I don't know if you know this, Daddy, but we're Jewish."

Hiram laughed, bending down to put the potatoes back in the oven. He had this thing where he made most of the food the night before Christmas Eve so there was no hustle and bustle the actual day.

"Baby, I know we're Jewish." He took off his oven mitts and placed them next to the stove. "Why are you being so difficult today?"

Rachel sighed, crossing her arms and popping her hip to the side. "I don't know, why do you think I'm being so difficult?"

"Your father loves you, Rachel. And so don't I. We simply couldn't work out our differences, that's all."

"Yeah, but you tried!" She looked into the other room, "And where is he anyways? Going out to get more booze?"

Hiram looked at his daughter with a serious intent, glaring his eyes at her. Rachel knew better than to insult that look, but her arms remained crossed and her hip cocked to the side. "He's not even trying."

"He's trying with you."

"No he's not!"

"Rachel Berry."

Rachel sighed, throwing her arms to the side and grabbing her coat. Hiram walked out of the kitchen to follow, watching the girl shove her slender arms into the coat pockets. He laughed to himself, my daughter is seventeen and is wearing a bright pink parka with stars on it. I'm still wondering how we managed to buy that for her.

"Baby, where are you going?"

"For a walk." She pulled on her snow boots, wrapped a scarf around her neck and slid her fingers into a pair of gloves.

"Put on a hat too."

"I like the snow in my hair."

She heard Hiram sigh as she closed the door behind her. Looking around, she realized how truly alone she was in the world. The only friends she had were Tina and Mark, perhaps Quentin, but she didn't know about him. His last stunt at the Christmas Chorale was putting her in a foul mood pertaining to the boy, but she had a strong feeling that there was something up with Quentin Fabray.

And there was something up with her home life as well, but she always knew that. Step by step, she left her footprints embedded in the white gush of snow only to be covered up by the flurry of falling snowflakes. She didn't know whether to be angry with her life, or be sad and depressed. She didn't know whether to move on from the tragedy, from her broken nose that still had a brace on it, or to just let the situation go and never resolve it.

She kicked the fluffy material, watching it fall around her. The house was far down the street now – she could see it because it was the only house really decked out with Christmas decorations. Hiram at least wanted to portray that they celebrated Christmas, but he also did it because his sister and mother didn't necessarily agree with their Jewish ways.

Across the street, she heard doors slamming and her head turned quickly to the side. Out of the car climbed a cute little girl in a purple parka, jumping up and down and holding what looked like a keychain. She exclaimed happily, "Ucle Quen! I wanna show yoo my room!"

"Okay, okay, Dahlia."

That voice…Rachel thought, her eyes now glued to the scene. An older girl climbed out of the car, Rachel guessing that it was the little girls mother, as well as the father who climbed out of the drivers seat. A much older woman, probably being the grandmother but didn't look like it, followed but preceded her son, who extended his legs and pulled himself out of the car.

Rachel felt her breath being caught in her throat, making a large bump of air that she couldn't breathe out or swallow. She watched the scene in front of her – watching as Quentin sweetly smiled and wrapped the little girl up in his arms before turning and noticing Rachel.

She didn't know whether to run or say hello and wave. But she knew better. She knew he noticed the brace on her nose and the bruises that surrounded her eyes. He put Dahlia down, saying something to her sweetly and giving her a kiss before slowly beginning to walk towards the petite witch.

Rachel slowly began to back away as Quentin got near, "Rachel, we need to talk."

"No." She replied, accidentally slipping on a patch of ice before quickly regaining her balance, still walking backwards. "I gave you a chance and you screwed it up." She breathed. "Happy Christmas, Quentin."

Quentin watched as she turned and ran, her face turning pink in the winter frost. He watched the breath escape her mouth and turn into vapor. He watched the speck of darkness turn and walk into a house that was lit up with Christmas decorations.

The blonde sighed to himself, noticing a small blonde pulling on his jean pocket. He reached down and picked up Dahlia, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "D, this is going to be a very eventful holiday."

"You tawk funny!"

All Quentin could do was laugh.