In Twain

"They're coming."

Burt hated nothing more in the world than the sight of his wife crying, especially with how beautiful she looked holding herself together in their bedroom.

"It was a nightmare," he offered, wishing she would come back to bed and knowing that she would not appreciate him throwing her over his shoulder.

"My mother owled me the other day. I never forgot that they took my best friend, Burt, and they put the Dark Mark over her house because her mum was a lawyer. It's only a matter of time before they come after me and you and the children. We should've beat it as soon as You-Know-Who got his poppet into the Ministry. He might be dead, but his followers aren't. They remember me."

"We'll go now," Burt said. "We've already…"

"It's just paper!" she exclaimed. "That won't stop them from tracking us and finding us. There's no one powerful enough to protect us, they've made sure of that."

She crumpled on to the floor. "Merlin help us."

Burt went to her immediately, giving up the tangled sheets for the hard floor and her soft body. He kissed her, hard until he was sure that her heart wasn't beating fast from fear. "Don't cry. Don't give up on us. We both knew it wasn't going to be easy. Who's idea was it to use the words 'troll' and 'dragons' in our marriage vows?"

"I never got the hang of Christians," she quipped dryly, and he laughed a little too hard, relieved that his wife was back, with him. He could tell from how the darkness receded in her eyes, allowing the flecks of gold (or "honey bursts" as he secretly thought of them) in the murky center to catch the light. He took her into his arms and carried her to the bed and she seemed much better as they spooned. She murmured softly and their lamp dimmed.

Almost as Burt dozed off, stroking the curve of her waist and her hip, she twisted herself until her sweet breath blew into his ear. Whatever she said was lost to him because the walls of their flat burst into fire—black flames licked the walls. It wasn't a natural fire because the temperature plunged as the smoke stung his eyes.

His kids.

Burt was already up and running to their rooms, grateful that the door wasn't stuck. He didn't notice his teeth chattering in the chill. His wife was barely half a step behind him, wand out.

There was so much smoke in the children's room. Burt wasn't an expert in fire safety, but he knew that it wouldn't take much to suffocate their precious little lungs. His little boy, Kurt, didn't respond to shaking or hollering. From his wife's hysterical wail at his daughter's bed, Hermione wasn't waking up either.

"The fireplace, my love! Hurry! The wards have failed!"

She was dashing out of the bedroom with Hermione's cheek on her neck; Burt quickly followed with Kurt in tow.

His wife chucked the whole pot of Floo powder at the kindling and started the fire despite choking out the spell. With her back to the fire place and the point of her wand swinging from the door to the window, she jerked her head to the green flames, a weirder color than the black fire consuming their cozy little flat.

"GO! I'LL FOLLOW YOU AND KURT!"

He took a moment to kiss her lips and to kiss the top of Hermione's bushy, brown hair and then Burt lunged into the fireplace, trusting in her promise. He was careful not to get soot onto Kurt, who would put up such a fuss.

"HUMMEL'S TIRE & LUBE!" Burt hollered, doing his best not to slur his words, because the last time he'd clambered in, he'd landed himself in Timbuktu, no kidding.

Burt didn't have time to say her name when a bolt of light hit her square in the ear. Her beautiful eyes rolled back and she slumped to the floor with Hermione dozing on top of her. As loud as Burt cursed and as hard as he willed his body back to her, the pull of magic was too strong. Even if it was in his power to return, Burt knew with a dead certainty that the bricks of their fireplace weren't supposed to collapse into themselves like that.

He landed very gracefully on his feet. Kurt coughed up a storm and Burt just focused on that. Focused on holding his little boy in a house that was too big for only the two of them.

"Daddy? Where am I?" Kurt's eyes were so blue and so wide in his grimy face.

"We're home, son. We're home." Burt didn't trust himself to say more than that.

"Oh," Kurt said, rubbing the soot out of his eyes. He yawned. "Where's Mommy? Where's Hermy-ninny?"

"They're coming," Burt finally managed. "We'll wait for them, because they will come."

Even though his wife had never lied to him, Burt sank his nose into the collar of Kurt's pajamas and squinted his eyes shut at the pain.

A/N: Hello! Tell me what you want!

The person who prompted this on Tumblr: I have no plans on where this is going, so I can fulfill any particular fancy or guilty pleasure that can only make an AU! HP/Glee fusion more awesome. Just some questions before I post again...

Do you want Kurt magic or muggle.

If Kurt be magic, what House?

Do you care if he is paired with a person from glee or Hogwarts? I'll end up turning this into a Finn/Kurt pairing without guidance, just sayin'.

I don't own Glee or HP.