Title: The Show Must Go On
Author: Lilith Duvare
Fandom: Harry Potter/Glee
Pairings: Harry Potter/Blaine
Ratings: PG-13/T (coz the cursing)
Genre: Crossover, Romance, Humour, General, Friendship
Warnings: Slash! boy kissing (sadly just in the last chapter), pathetic attempts on wittiness and humour oh and cursing. AND bitch!Harry
Summary: What if the Blaine and the gang weren't actually characters of Glee, but the actual actors of the show? This little drabble series attempts to follow the long way one Blaine Wilson has to take to reach his dreams and win the man of said dreams... Harry Potter, the head bitch choreographer of the show.
Disclaimer:I sure don't own either Harry Potter or Glee, which is obviously sad in my opinion, but can't be helped. It means, I get absolutely no money for this... a pity.
A/N: I decided to put this into the crossover basket although the only crossover-y thing is the presence of Harry who could actually fit into the role of an OC, because he's being a cruel bitch when it comes to dance... but you'll find this out soon enough. Sure, there is one little mention of the Weasleys around the chapter before the last, but that's it. No Dark Lords or wars, because that's the past and we're living in the present. Only Dance Magic. I hope you'll like it. This is my Christmas present to you guys.
The Show Must Go On
Ep. 1 - Pilot
"...and now, step, step, slide, turn and torso bent! No! No! What are you a bunch of crippled old hags? You're supposed to be seductive! Seductive!" Blaine refused to flinch back from the force of that husky, powerful voice.
He bit his lip, wondering if he was at the wrong place, but the text on the plate next to the door matched with the text on his note, reading P. Hall 11, which could only mean that he was to be under the mercy of the owner of that voice. He looked around, hand hovering above the door handle, wishing that some of his co-stars would arrive, but no one's there and he had no other choice but going in.
"Berry, are you really this dim-witted?" Hearing this Blaine did flinch back. "It's nothing hard. You bend your upper body forward, curl your back and slide your hand down your midget body!"
The first thing Blaine realized upon opening the door was that he was in a simple practice room with enough space to hold at least fifty people, a full mirror wall and a terraced stage placed in front of the opposite wall. The next thing he noticed was six girls in simple work-out clothes, one of them, a really short girl with brown hair in the front, was glaring daggers at the lean, black haired man in front of her.
"What? You need me to show you how to be a real woman?" the man asked, his reflection flashing a cruel smirk at the furious girl. "Maybe I really should, because aside from Lopez there none of you have any clue what you are doing!"
The olive skinned girl, named Lopez straightened his back for a second, his expression arrogant and almost predatory. "Now you just earned yourself a brownie point in my fuck-buddy note book," she said with a saucy grin and the still nameless man sneered while Blaine almost chocked to death on thin air.
"Sure Santana, the moment you get rid of your plastic balls and grow a dick I'll gladly bed you. Until then, don't even mention yourself and sex in the same sentence, because it only makes me nauseous." He felt as his eyes widen comically and a tiny sound escaped his lips, instantly drawing everyone's attention to himself.
His body froze on the spot and for some insane reason he felt guilty even though he didn't do anything wrong. Seven pair of eyes stared at him, measuring him and judging his value without even knowing who he was which not only made him even more flustered but a bit angry too. But then he made the mistake of meeting the most striking eyes he ever saw and all air left his body as those glowing acid green orbs bore into his soul.
"One of the new boys, I presume?" Of course Blaine did not shiver as that sensual voice caressed his senses. It didn't sound angry or cruel like only a few moments ago which surprised him. "Take a seat on the stage, your mates aren't here yet and these ladies decided to make my life a living hell."
"More likely it was you who decided to be a bigger jerk than usual," the small girl, Berry, spat, putting her hands on her hips.
"Oh shut up, Hobbit, it is your disgusting frigidity's fault that we're still here!" Santana snarked back. "I'm not surprised Finn is jittery all the time, I bet you can't even be a woman enough to jerk him off!"
"After this enlightening... hm... little detail about the nonexistent sex life of Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson, let me tell you something." Here the man stopped for a moment, enjoying the tension in the air. "None of you even reached the level where I can tell you that you all suck. So if you would step back and let me show you how is this done, we all could get rid of each other a bit sooner."
Blaine tried to refrain from openly gaping. Would they have to endure such verbal abuse from the – admittedly extremely hot, not that it mattered – seemingly short tempered choreographer too? Because he wasn't sure he could take such remarks silently even if they weren't intended to be personal.
For God's sake he was eighteen and just out of high school, and was extremely lucky to get into Glee which was one of the most popular TV series in America nowadays! Sure the others were around his age too, but at least they had a year of experience ahead of him, because honestly who would count as impromptu gigs at cafes, uploading his songs on Youtube and playing in school dramas as experience? This was the real thing and the fact Blaine had no talent when it came to dancing frightened him more than anything at that moment.
He was brought back to reality by the beginning of a Bon Jovi song and the next moment his eyes was glued to the figure in the centre of the room, because man, those hips knew how to sway to seduce unsuspecting bystanders without even really trying. The man was enticing and Blaine thought that even the straightest men would question their sexuality upon watching the performance the choreographer was putting on.
He thought he heard one of the girls, he suspected it was Santana Lopez, moan something along the line of "All this sexiness is wasted on men!", but he wasn't sure he heard it right as his mind was so deep in the gutter, ogling that firm ass and lithe body swaying and twisting like some kind of snake or feline perfectly in tune with the mash-up.
Fortunately the song was over before his overloaded mind could process all the dirty and mortifying fantasies that flooded it during the show, preventing him from doing something that would either get him kicked out of the show on his very first day or make him wish the stage could swallow him in whole.
The man turned around, cocking an eyebrow, only slightly out of breath, which was impressive in itself after such an intense performance, asking, "Did you get the gist of the meaning of being seductive or do I have to show you again?"
"Wasn't that a fine show girls?" the dark skinned, curvy girl asked, smirking suggestively. "We should accept you as a honorary girl, like we did with Kurt. After all you sure as hell can dance like a bitch."
"Why thank you, Merce!" the man beamed with a sharp glint in his eyes. "Now back into formation and from the top!"
And the instructions started once again, accompanied by sneers and jibes, but by the time Blaine's co-actors started to arrive, the girls' moves were smoother and more in tune with each other.
Of course Mr. Slave Driver was far from satisfied. "I can't even fathom how Andrew hasn't ripped his hair out yet, if you are as pathetic during Cheereos practice as here."
"You can go fuck yourself, Potter. I'd even lend you some of my toys for it," Santana snarled, then grabbed her bottle of water and ignoring the wide-eyed, spluttering boys just a few feet away from her, stormed out of the room.
"For once I agree with Santana and if I didn't find what she said so crude and disgusting I would wish you the same," Rachel added, sticking his nose in the air before following the other girl.
"Anyone else? Maybe someone even wants to watch as I put those toys into action?" asked Potter, rolling his eyes earning a few squeaks from the newbies and chuckles from the girls.
"Don't need to go overboard, White Boy, these gents next to us are ready to faint and you haven't even turned on your charm," Mercedes said.
"Although maybe you should start gentle with them," one of the blondes added causing Blaine to forget to breathe once again.
"None of them have been fortunate enough to feel your power, when it comes to dominating others," was the Asian girls response and all of them laughed and winked at them before heading out of the room leaving behind twelve beet red and gawking boys and a clearly amused choreographer.
Who only rolled his eyes at the clever remarks, then clapped his hands gaining everyone's attention. "So you are the Warblers... ridiculous name if you ask me, but not really my concern," he started, his smile crooked and there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes, that caused Blaine to gulp nervously. "My name is Harry Potter, you can call me Harry, Potter or Master. But lame joke aside, from now on we will work together whenever you have a new song to sing on the show. As you could see, I'm cruel and a right bastard, but I'm not a bully and I don't tolerate any form of harassment here–"
"Eh, sorry, but you just said you're cruel and you right as hell told pretty awful things to those girls," one of Blaine's fellow Warblers interrupted.
"You don't like something I say, you fight back. I will call you many things, curse at you, fuck, maybe even threaten your life, but, and this is something you have to understand, it's nothing personal. I don't know you yet, but you can ask the chicks or the guys from ND, we are actually friends," Harry answered and there was no trace of irritation in his tone which honestly surprised Blaine. "You'll soon realize that the choreographers, costume designers, make-up artists and all the lot that has nothing to do with the actual filming are the best confidants in this place. So to finish this embarrassingly girly moment; if you have some problem whatever it is, you can always call me or seek me out."
Blaine stared at the young man, who, now that he could concentrate on more than the very attractive body before him, didn't seem that much older than him. Maybe a year or two, but he was sure four topped it. Harry had an angular face, all high cheekbones and defined lines with plump but not girly pale lips and big eyes to soften the whole picture, not to mention the messy mop of raven hair that almost hung into the man's eyes. He looked tall, but actually wasn't really and as the Warblers stood up Blaine had noted with interest that actually Harry was even a bit smaller than his own 5'8".
"So I can even stalk you on Facebook and you won't file a restraining order against me?" another boy, this time the only Asian in the group, asked, waggling his eyebrows grinning cheekily.
"I don't use Facebook, but considering the revelation of your stalkerish nature, I'm having second thoughts about giving you my number," Harry countered, mocking fear showing on his face. "However, niceties are over," he continued, crossing his lightly tanned arms in front of his wife-beater covered chest. "We start with some warming ups even though you are the least acrobatic mass I have to work with."