Disclaimer: I don't own anything, only these words in this particular order.

1.

Blaine Anderson was damn near about to go mad.

It was only the first day back at Hogwarts, his seventh and last year, thank Merlin. But that wasn't his current problem. That in itself was another issue, one he'd take care of as soon as he got rid of the one between his legs. He was a full-blooded veela now, as he'd come into his Inheritance just a week ago, but he hadn't planned on finding his mate so quickly.

Blaine was sure that was what this was. A smell so, so sweet it burned his nose but warmed his lungs and that made his heart swell inside his chest. It also made his cock harder than it'd ever been, but he didn't bother to hide his erection, even when his constant, almost—almost barely audible mewling kept attracting attention his way. He couldn't for the life of him figure out where the scent was coming from. He wasn't surprised about that, however, as he was currently sitting in the great hall surrounded by students, waiting for the welcoming feast to begin.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Blaine?" Wes said from beside him, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"My mate." He mumbled under his breath, then let out a low whine. "Want him. Need him."

Wes quirked an eyebrow as he tapped out a light tune on the table. Muggle music really wasn't all that bad. Sometimes. "You think it's Jeff?" He asked, then sent the blonde sitting next to him a conspiratory wink.

Jeff looked up from staring forlornly at his empty plate to Wes curiously, not having caught the conversation (or the wink), and Blaine barely withheld himself from knocking the bastard out of his chair. He wasn't in the mood. Not right now. "No. It's not Jeff, Wes."

"Who is it then?" Wes batted his eyelashes lightly, teasingly as if to say "Me?" but Blaine only rolled his eyes and turned away, refusing to take the bait as he continued to search the great hall for signs of his mate.

"I don't know. If I did I wouldn't be talking to you about it right now."

Kurt Hummel was uncomfortable. Which was saying something, considering how fit his clothes normally were (and he could actually wear some of them as Hogwarts had become more lenient with the dress code and school outings in the years following the war), but this was different. He just felt… strange. There was a sharp, crisp edge to the air that he couldn't quite identify, and it was starting to make him more and more uneasy.

Something was about to happen. And Kurt, judging by the gut feeling he had, was not going to like it.

Kurt ducked his head closer to the table, his cheeks tinting with a nervous flush as Figgins declared the start of the welcoming feast, and he filled his plate with a few of the healthier choices as they appeared on the table in front of him. He startled at the feeling of a hand on his arm, turning quickly to the brunette beside him. "Kurt, are you okay?"

"Yeah. I-I'm fine, Rach."

Rachel stared at him for a moment before giving a light nod and saying, "Well, I'm just too excited for this year, guys. Our Quidditch season is bound to be amazing what with me being promoted to both captain and Seeker…" She trailed off for a moment and looked at Kurt thoughtfully. "Kurt, you should seriously consider—"

Kurt scowled, momentarily forgetting about nasty feeling he was having. "Rachel, I am not joining the Quidditch team. I'll stick with studying with Mike and Tina."

"You're the only one of us not on the team." Mercedes pointed out.

Kurt rolled his eyes and took a bite from his salad, using that as an excuse not to respond. They'd been asking him to join the Quidditch team since first year. One would think that by now, in seventh, they would've given up. As Rachel, Mercedes, and his boyfriend, Chandler (who was sitting opposite of Kurt) started up a conversation about Quidditch tryouts and strategies, Kurt tuned out, taking a moment to glance absently around the great hall.

He spotted his step brother, Finn, sitting at the Hufflepuff table, laughing at something Karofsky was saying. Kurt couldn't imagine anything that Neanderthal said being even remotely laughable. But whatever. He also saw Tina and Mike Chang, both Ravenclaw, bent over ridiculously thick text books.

It was only as his gaze traveled across the Slytherin table did Kurt's breath catch in his throat.

Blaine Anderson was watching him.

The scent was distinctly male, that much Blaine knew for certain.

Every time he thought of it, he became just a little bit more annoyed. He'd always imagined his mate as a woman (as he was in his own mind, perfectly straight), full figured and beautiful with soft, lightly tanned features and long, flowing dark hair. He was acutely aware of, on most nights when his mind was most active, picturing her as Asian, or something of the like, as that was usually the type he went for. He was also aware that his mother would be infuriated if his mate turned out to not be of his race. But she was picky, and on most days, a bitch, and it wasn't like Blaine had any control over this situation.

Stupid instincts.

Blaine saw Wes cast a glance across the hall to the Gryffindor table from the corner of his eye, then shake his head. "There really are more things to life than Quidditch."

"Not that it isn't fucking amazing or anything." Nick cut in.

Wes waved his hand dismissively, snorting in amusement when Jeff made a dive for the closest platter of food to him as soon as the feast started and the food appeared. "Yeah, whatever."

Blaine cast a cursory glance over to the Gryffindor table as well, wondering what the werewolf hybrid had heard, but just as he moved to turn elsewhere in search of his mate, he froze. A sigh he hadn't realized he'd been harboring flew past his lips, as did a quiet groan when he finally, finally, laid eyes on him.

He's so beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Wanna fuck him. Claim him. Mine. He's mine. Mineminemine.

He hadn't realized that he'd started to keen sharply in response to the sight of his mate, but Wes did—as did all the others beside him—and he winced and smacked Blaine in the arm. Hard.

"Dude, totally get that he's your mate and all, but kindly shut the fuck up."

Blaine didn't stop keening, he was way too far gone. He hadn't even properly registered what the boy beside him had said. His mind was one-track now and as his instincts completely took over, all he could think was matematemate and wait for the beautiful boy to look up at him. He might've been his mate, but instinctually, Blaine's veela knew that his call had to be acknowledged before he could proceed and go over there, rip off his clothes and claim him right in the middle of the great hall.

"What the hell is he doin'?" David muttered irritably, rubbing his temples.

"Mating call." Jeff said around a mouthful of food. "Not that she can hear him or anything. It's pretty noisy in here with all these fucking first years milling about." He paused only to swallow, chug half a glass of pumpkin juice, and shove more food in his mouth before saying, "I bet she's hot."

"Blaine's mate is a boy, Jeff." Wes sighed.

Jeff's eyebrows shot up underneath his messy hair. Where'd he been to miss that? "Oh." He shrugged. "I be he's hot, then."

Blaine Anderson, who had made it his life goal to torment Kurt every chance he got, all throughout first through fifth year—but had for some reason stopped in sixth—was staring at him. His gaze was so intense and weighted that it made Kurt's cheeks flush bright. Something—Kurt couldn't tell what it was from this far away—flickered over Anderson's face as Kurt continued to return his gaze, and Kurt's heart gave a solid lurch and fell into his stomach when, in one swift motion, Anderson stood and started to make his way over to the Gryffindor table where Kurt was seated.

A hush had fallen over the great hall as soon as Blaine had stood, the only sounds to be heard the clinking of silverware on plates, Blaine's heavy footsteps, and Kurt's harsh breaths as he started to hyperventilate the closer Blaine got. Oh, hell what is he going to do? Hit me? Pour pumpkin juice all over me, like last time? Those stains never had come out of Kurt's robes.

Rachel, ever observant, looked curiously between Kurt and Blaine, who was rapidly approaching. "Kurt, what's going on?" She whispered hurriedly. "Did something happen over summer break that you didn't tell me about?"

"No! I-I mean, no. Nothing happened. I don't know what the hell Anderson's problem…"

"Kurt."

Kurt shifted, slightly on edge at the sound of his name purring past Blaine's lips. Since when were they on first name basis? "Anderson." He responded sharply. "Did you need something?"

The smile Anderson gave him in response sent a chill down his spine.

"Kurt." Anderson said again, his tea colored gaze not once faltering. "Kurt, please—"

"Kurt?" The boy in question's eyes immediately shot to Chandler, who was gazing back at him with an almost skeptically cautious expression. Chandler pushed his square glasses up on his nose and narrowed his eyes a little. "Care to tell me what's going on?"

Well, if I knew. "I don't—"

Blaine was getting impatient. His mate should've been in his arms by now. And who the fuck did Kiehl think he was, interrupting him like that? He hadn't wanted to do this, but since Kurt was being so fucking difficult.

Blaine closed his eyes and took a moment to center himself before letting a small amount of his allure to settle over the occupants of the great hall to keep them from causing any trouble, and a more concentrated amount on his mate. He heard Kurt's resulting gasp, knowing he was feeling the raw sexual energy flowing through his veins.

Perfect.

He smiled a little to himself and held out his hand, Kurt took it immediately. And as Blaine led his mate out of the great hall and down to the dungeons, not one person said a thing.

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