This story contains character death with a bittersweet ending, keep that in mind - futhermore enjoy
It's a dull life, being a portrait, really. Especially if you're located in one of the more remote parts of the Hogwarts Castle, like Kurt was. He knew the summer had gone by again because the soft drum of students walking everywhere returned after some time of peaceful silence and it was always tempting to leave his frame and have a look.
Except Kurt didn't really like the other portraits much, finding them way too exuberant at the staircases and he was rather fond of his special tranquil corner. Only once or twice a day either a teacher or Filch would come by and Kurt would just nod at them or keep quiet. It was a few days into the new school year when he had an encounter with a student.
The little boy was wearing robes that seemed a size too big, had a bush of dark curls that was bigger than his head and tripped over the hem of his trousers right in front of Kurt's portrait.
Worried Kurt leaned in closer, hoping he was alright. The boy merely whined in pain, but it didn't seem severe from what Kurt could see as he rolled over and kneeled to check on his knee.
"Are you injured?" Kurt asked, voice hollow as it echoed through the corridor.
The boy startled, falling flat onto his behind and looking up to Kurt's frame. "Sorry, I didn't see you," he said politely. He didn't seem fazed by the talking portrait so Kurt assumed he wasn't muggleborn.
"That's alright, wondering if you're okay, though?
Standing up and wiping the dust of his robes, he nodded. "I'm good, I just –" He looked up to Kurt again and for the first time Kurt could see his face clearly. Underneath the bush was a soft face with chubby cheeks, the baby fat clearly still clinging onto his bones, and his eyes were clear with a hazel color.
"You're what?" Kurt encouraged.
"I'm lost."
He bit his lip trying not to giggle and nodded. "I can show you the way, if you'd let me."
"Will you?" The boy stood up straight while adjusting his bag. "Because last time I asked one of the ghosts and they led me into this really dark room and I didn't like it."
Kurt frowned. "Seemed like you've had quite the rough welcome to Hogwarts." The boy shrugged. "Where do you need to be?"
"Charms," he provided quickly. "Class 99."
"South Tower." Being a portrait gave Kurt time enough to learn the castle from tower to dungeon. "Meet me at the portrait with the yellow birds." He nodded his head to the left and waited for the boy to start walking, not leaving until he did. There were no other portraits between him and the Singing Birds, so it only took a long step for him to reach it.
"You're here!" the boy panted as if he'd been running.
"You seem surprised." Kurt looked to his shoulder where one of the birds sat down.
"I don't really know who I can trust, sorry for that."
Kurt didn't know how to respond to that and held up the bird to place him on one of the branches. "Meet me at the portrait of the lake with swans."
They continued like that on and on, moving from painting to painting until they became increasingly more and they could just walk next to each other as Kurt stepped through frames.
"My name is Blaine, by the way," the boy – Blaine – said as they reached the South Tower.
"Kurt."
"Nice to meet you, Kurt." Blaine tightened his grip on his bag. "I like your clothes."
The remark startled Kurt, making him look down at his dandy clothing that was painted on tightly. "T-thank you."
"You're the nicest person I have met since coming here." Finally the sounds of other students filled the void and Blaine seemed to remember where to go. "Thank you so much, Kurt, for helping me."
"No problem, Blaine."
"I'll see you around?" His big eyes were hopeful, making Kurt not bear the thought of telling him he doesn't leave his frame ever.
"Yes," he squeaked instead.
"Cool, have a good day, Kurt!"
He couldn't even say goodbye before Blaine ran off and got swallowed up by the other students, leaving Kurt frozen in a portrait of a farmer's market. There was a soft twittering, followed by one of the birds of the Singing Birds portrait sitting down on his shoulder again. With one last lingering look to where Blaine had vanished to, he turned around to go back to his frame, knowing there was a chance he might never see Blaine again.
A few days later Kurt was reading a book he got from the portrait of the scholars nearby the library, humming a mindless tune as he waited for another day to go by.
"Hello, Kurt," a slowly familiar becoming voice said. Jumping up Kurt dropped his book with a thud, staring down amazed at Blaine returning to his corridor.
"Blaine!"
"I didn't mean to scare you!" Blaine said quickly, motioning wildly with his hands. "I was just – I just needed, I –" He swallowed and cleared his throat. "Sorry, I was just wondering if I can do my homework here?"
Kurt blinked once, twice, and looked down the empty hallway where there were no desks or chairs – only stone walls, floors and a few standing chandeliers. "Wouldn't you rather do that with your friends?"
A wince flashed across Blaine's face. "I don't have many friends, actually you can say any, really." Nervously he crunched the parchment in his hands. "I won't be a bother, you can read your book and I'll just –" he sat down and crossed his legs. "Be here. I like your company."
Slowly nodding, Kurt retrieved his book and tried to continue his reading as Blaine seemed entirely focused on some kind of essay. He tried not to stare at the boy, who couldn't be a year over eleven and seemed completely content on sitting in an empty corridor in front of a portrait.
An hour or so later Blaine announced he was done, and Kurt hadn't read a page of his book.
"So where are you from?" Blaine asked, still sitting on the floor with his legs crossed and scooting closer.
"I – I'm sorry?"
"Well, you're a portrait and I'm curious about who you are and what your history is like." His eyes were big and shimmering, filled with true curiosity. Curiosity Kurt couldn't satisfy.
"I don't know."
Blaine's thick eyebrows knitted into a frown. "What do you mean, you don't know? You're a portrait, you're alive - sort of, no offence." Kurt smiled at his youth, his nescience and wondered how it must be like: still growing up and not being frozen in time in a portrait.
"Portraits know as much as their makers teach them," he began to explain. "After I was painted and enchanted, all that the painter told me was that my name was Kurt and I was to be moved to a mansion in London. No one ever told me more. Not even when I moved here."
"But did you go to Hogwarts?"
"As a human? I don't know. I don't even know if I'm a wizard, honestly."
The little appalled facial expression that decorated Blaine's face was endearing if you'd ask Kurt. He seemed truthfully sorry for his way of life.
"How long have you been here?"
"Ninety-three in Hogwarts, fifty or so in that mansion."
"Years?" Blaine gasped. "And no one told you who you are?"
He shook his head, fidgeting with his fingernails. "No one bothered."
Right as Blaine was about to say something, a sharp voice bellowed across the corridor. "You there!" Filch sneered. "Get to your dormitory! Scoot!"
Scrambling in panic, Blaine grabbed all his belongings and quickly said goodbye to Kurt before Filch could reach him. The janitor didn't ran after him and simply stopped in front of Kurt's frame, taking him in like he was wondering why he could be so interesting for a student.
"Having a good evening, sir?" Kurt asked, taking in the dandy persona everybody knew him for. Filch groaned back, muttering 'stupid portraits, stupid students' before disappearing again.
Kurt became more intrigued by the castle life after the incident with Filch. The years he didn't dare to leave his portrait were long forgotten as Kurt curiously tried to discover new corners and portraits, or at least - that's what he'd told himself. If he was being honest he was just trying to find the little boy named Blaine with his big robes and equally big hair.
The thing was - Kurt didn't have to go out looking for Blaine, because he would always find him instead.
"I asked professor Binns about you," Blaine said one afternoon in a remote left wing study hall. Kurt had taken over a portrait a witch named Lucille Harlow, who was out for tea on the second floor. They rotated their meet-ups throughout the castle so they Filch wouldn't catch Blaine in his corridor anymore.
"You did?"
Blaine nodded eagerly, digging in his bag and took out two books. "He recommended the latest edition of Hogwarts A History, which seems logical if you'd ask me, and go from there. And I found the chapter about portraits." He opened the book on the desk in front of the portrait and flipped to, Kurt assumed, the right page. "Your name is right here."
"Oh?" Kurt tried to lean down to read it, but the frame stopped him from doing so.
"I'll read it, no worries," Blaine smiled, "your name is Kurt Hummel, and you were a wizard -" He looked up to read Kurt's face and his enthusiasm was contagious. "And according to this index you were painted around 1841, so I did some research myself." He took out the other book to place it in front of him. "This is a book that features famous witches and wizards around the Victorian Era, I assumed you were kind of famous because why else would you have a painting, and I found this!"
He held up the book that showed a drawing of some kind of protest at a town's hall. "There you are!" Between all the people in the drawing, Blaine pointed at the man standing the highest and presumably shouting the loudest. "You were Kurt Hummel, born 1817, and one of the aspiring protesters, leader even, of the movement of 1939!"
"I - I was a rebel?"
"For a good cause!" Blaine quickly supplied. "You were a protagonist of gay wizard and witches rights. Thanks to you, they don't have to worry anymore and are protected by the magic discrimination law!"
The information dizzied Kurt - had he really done all of that? Or, at least, his human form?
"Isn't that amazing, Kurt?"
"I - I guess so. I'm not sure what to believe."
The bell for supper rang through the study hall, making Blaine sigh and gather his things. "I have to go to the common room straight after supper. The prefect already caught me last night sneaking around."
"Blaine! I don't want you to get in trouble because you want to visit me."
He did his usual shrug whenever Kurt said something like that. "Your company is far more enjoyable than my house mates." With a little wave he left Kurt in the hall, who felt a pang of sadness in his core. A minute later Lucille returned to her portrait with a load of feathers in her hair, coughing up feathers as it was.
"Don't ask," she gobbled and Kurt didn't.
The school year he met Blaine was by far the most amazing year of Kurt's painted lifetime. Halfway during Christmas, he even got him a Christmas present. "Follow me!" he had said, and it was a true scavenger hunt through the castle right before Blaine would go home to his parents and brother. The hunt ended at a portrait of a dragon that was surrounded by jewelry and gold, a portrait Kurt refused to step in.
"No, Blaine, he's just pretending to be sleeping."
"No way, I talked to him, you can have one of the brooches!"
"You talked to the dragon?"
"I have many talents."
"I'm not buying it for a second."
Blaine shot him a glare before turning to the dragon's portrait, muttering to it so softly that Kurt didn't catch what he was saying. The dragon was awake because he could hear the rustling of the gold and suddenly a brooch was tossed to the portrait he was hiding in.
"See!" Blaine exclaimed. His face was split in the biggest grin. "Happy Christmas!"
Kurt didn't know what to say, rolling the pin in his hands and feeling tears well up in his eyes. "Thank you, Blaine. Happy Christmas to you too."
And that moment really set the tone for the rest of the year, even after he returned from the break and left when the year was over. Summer suddenly became the most dreaded time of the year instead of the most peaceful one, but it did give him time and opportunity to socialize with the other portraits, and to request their frames from time to time to keep up with Blaine.
He learned that Blaine was a phenomenon amongst portraits – he was always polite and wished them good days. They also described him as lonesome, one of the portraits inside his house common room said that he's usually alone and that some other students even taunt him.
Because Blaine was away for summer, Kurt couldn't ask him what was going on and resulted into days of pacing while waiting for September first. He knew it was impossible for Blaine to see him after the welcoming banquet and he didn't dare to leave to the staircase portraits in case he did sneak out. Besides the staircases were a menace with all the new students: he wouldn't be able to spot Blaine if he wanted to.
Three days after the students came back and the lessons started, Blaine came by right before supper.
"You've grown!" Kurt squeaked upon arrival. It wasn't much: a few inches perhaps, but after such a long time of not seeing him he noticed every little change.
"You're still the same," Blaine recounted, voice scratchy and eerie – like his voice was dropping and maybe it was.
Kurt asked about his summer and Blaine talked galore, his voice going up and down at how intense he spoke. Puberty was tough, or at least that's what Kurt assumed.
"And Cooper has this god awful commercial on the radio, seriously – I'm sure he bewitched the damn thing so it would play it on repeat." The bell went and Blaine must be off. "I've missed you, Kurt," he said as a goodbye and skipped away.
Somehow Kurt failed to find a moment to speak to Blaine about the taunting, being all swallowed up by Blaine's homework and also research on him, as Kurt became the subject of every History of Magic essay.
"I feel like I know you so well," Blaine said while shoving his parchment to a neat pile.
"I feel like you know me better than I do."
The little flash of shock on his face hurt Kurt deeply but it was as it was.
"But you've done so many great things! And I aced my presentation on the rights movement and you wrote so many great articles." Kurt knew of those, Blaine had read them to him, but they still sounded like they were written by a stranger.
"I'm still just a painting," Kurt said. "Just a copy of what once was real. The human me is somewhere in a coffin, or probably already dust."
"Don't say that! To me you are him, but you're also you. You're both equally amazing because you're one!"
"Blaine!" he yelled, regretting it instantly at Blaine's fallen face.
"I told my parents about you when they asked if I made any friends," Blaine said softly. He said it as if it was a secret he'd been keeping for long. "They said that maybe this year I should make some real friends."
"Blaine –"
"No!" he snapped, pointing at Kurt. "Don't say you agree with them. I know you want me to have friends, but you need friends too!"
"Blaine, this isn't about me. Don't you want someone your own age? Someone who can actually help you with your homework and practice charms with? I'm not some imaginary friend come to life, no matter how badly you want me to be."
Blaine was holding himself, arms wrapped tight around his torso and his lower lip trembling. "I thought you were different. You know me."
"I do," Kurt really did know him, better than himself probably and he was a painting for over a hundred forty years, "but I'm still just a painting. I – I don't need to breathe, or - or actually need sleep and eat or drink. I'm – I'm not real."
"You are to me," Blaine answered softly before gathering his things and slumping away, not returning to the corridor for the rest of the year.
Returning to his old routine was easier than Kurt wanted to. He wished he had the courage to walk through other frames again and try to only see glances of Blaine. But he realized that Blaine was the real person here and he had to make decisions because his life was still entirely ahead of him. Kurt's was not.
According to the other portraits Blaine did make a friend named Sam, he was from a different house but they were buddies nevertheless. Kurt was happy for him and also a little jealous, all he could do was to accept it.
Another summer went by and Kurt was officially rusted into his old life pre-Blaine. Only teachers and Filch walked by, no more students tripped over robes in front of his portrait, so he was again utterly alone. The thing that changed most was the portrait of a witch named Rachel took a likeness in him, occasionally asking him over to give opinions about songs and clothing. He was actually on his way to her the day everything once again changed. Turning around the corner on the toad competition portrait he heard them yelling, followed by groans in pain.
Kurt froze immediately. The slurs felt so familiar and they were bad, really bad. He tried to see where he could get closer to the incident, racing through portraits as the slurs became spells and an agonizing pain from the victim rang through his ears.
"Hey!" Kurt already yelled as he got closer. There were three boys standing and one lying on the floor. Finally he reached the closest portrait. "You there! Stop it!" he yelled as authoritative as possible. The three bullies looked up, scoffing at him like he could do nothing and for a frightful second he thought he really couldn't.
"Kurt!" Rachel came running. "What's taking so long, you –" She too froze at seeing what is going on. "ALARM!" she shrieked. Her screeching did seem to scare off the boys and with a final kick to the victim they ran off. "Oh my God, Kurt, what happened?"
"Kurt?" The voice was weak and trembling and the source of it was the heap of bleeding student on the floor. He turned his head to the portrait where Kurt and Rachel were, revealing to be Blaine. His hair was shorter and he was getting bulkier, but still managed to completely take away Kurt's breath.
"Blaine," Kurt whimpered, seeing a stream of blood seep down his forehead over his nose. "Blaine, are you okay?" He definitely wasn't okay. "Can you move? Call for someone?"
"Kurt," was all Blaine replied, blinking too slowly to be normal.
Rachel plucked his sleeve. "We have to get someone."
"It's Christmas break, barely anyone is here." Frustration crept up his skin – he knew he couldn't leave Blaine here. Slowly Blaine opened his eyes again, begging him. "I'll go get someone. You stay here."
"Kurt," both Rachel and Blaine said, although one feisty and one meekly.
"Blaine? This is Rachel, talk to her for a little while," he said to Blaine before turning to Rachel. "Keep him conscious, talk to him, sing or something. I'll go try and find someone."
Leaving Rachel's protesting noises behind him he began skipping through frames, eventually running that made all the other portraits stare and call him rude amongst other things.
The thought of Blaine lying there still and alone with only a painting offering help kept him going and run faster. At some point he was even tempted to steal one of the knight's horses, but feared their wrath. He was panicking when he arrived at the staircases and didn't find any humans around. The time had to be after supper so the teachers were in their respective rooms as well, none of them with a painting for him to enter.
He was walking aimlessly, asking portraits he knew if they had seen any humans, all their answers being negative. It was until the paintings on the walls frew thinner he realized where he was heading too and came abruptly to a halt in a painting of a meadow.
There was a room that belonged to a human that had paintings, lots of them even. Except the rules stated that no other portrait than a headmaster was allowed to enter the frames, only in emergency.
'Kurt,' echoed through his head. What am I even thinking? What am I doing? Wait. Why aren't I doing it already?
Quickly he picked up his running again and raced even faster through the paintings as he reached the tower he was going for. He forgot about his manners and didn't even ask permission to enter the Headmaster's Office, simply hijacking the first frame he saw.
"What is this?" the owner of the frame said grumpily, Kurt ignoring him and stepping in front of him.
"Headmaster?" he called, his eyes skimming the office. "Professor Dumbledore?" He had met the latest headmaster only once, at least - while he was headmaster. As a student Professor Dumbledore had gone by, telling him he was in love with a boy and Kurt wasn't sure why he told him of all portraits. Weeks after Blaine told him about his history the reason dawned.
In the corner of the office he noticed movement and the other portraits began to wake up to his disturbance.
"Intruder!" a portrait yelled, Kurt once again ignoring him.
"This is an emergency!"
To his relief someone came walking up to the nuisance, revealing not only the headmaster, but also another teacher of which Kurt didn't remember the name.
"What is going on, Master Hummel?" Professor Dumbledore asked, his voice kind and his eyes hard toward the other portraits.
As fast and clear as he could he explained about Blaine lying alone in the corridor some floors down. "I don't know if anyone has reached him yet, but I had nowhere else to go -"
"Blaine Anderson?" the other teacher interrupted him.
"I - I believe so?"
"Where is he?" she asked persistently.
Kurt tried to explain where it was, but he only knew it by portrait route and the nerves took the better out of him.
"Albus, he's one of my students - I need to -"
"He's one of all our students, Minerva." Professor Dumbledore laid a hand on our shoulder and suddenly Kurt remembered her from the Gryffindor common room as a younger version of herself was hanging there as a portrait. "Lead us the way, Master Hummel. Try not to skip floors by frame."
Vividly Kurt nodded, stepping out of the annoyed headmaster's frame to the hallway while he waited for both of the teachers to follow him. He kept looking over his shoulder to see if they were keeping up, breathing again when he saw they were.
What seemed to take a lifetime they slowly heard something musical - a voice singing softly and Kurt recognized it as Rachel's.
"Right over there!" he told Professor Dumbledore, both him and Professor McGonagall running past him at seeing Blaine lying on the floor.
"Oh Kurt, you're back!" Rachel said, voice heavy with emotion. "I tried so hard but he stopped talking and -"
"Shut up!" Professor McGonagall berated.
"Alert Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said much calmer, turning Blaine's entire body into a more comfortable position and for not the first time Kurt cursed himself for being a portrait. He couldn't help Blaine by touching him, turning him or even just hold him. So instead he held Rachel.
"Is he going to be alright?" Kurt asked after Professor McGonagall left to get the school's nurse.
"You did the right thing," Dumbledore said in that same calm tone. "You said he was attacked - by whom may I ask?" Kurt was about to answer when Blaine groaned in pain and he completely lost his ability to speak. "I'll ask again later." A twinkle appeared in his eyes as Dumbledore stared up at the frame.
After McGonagall returned with Madam Pomfrey, wearing only her night gowns, the three of them began to move Blaine by lifting him, much to Kurt's growing distress.
"Where is going?"
"Hospital Wing," Dumbledore filled in while McGonagall only glared because after all - what was it to a portrait? "I believe there's a portrait of a young witch there, I'm sure you can wait there." Again with a twinkle in his eyes he looked up at him.
From all the murmurs and whispers, Kurt found out Blaine had a minor concussion and was affected by several impish spells. He never left the portrait of the mediwitch, sitting on a little stool while watching over the Hospital Wing. Somehow the mediwitch didn't mind it though and treated him like he was one of her patients by taking his temperature and bringing him tea.
Christmas break was ending and Blaine regained color on his cheeks from the potions. Professor Dumbledore came back frequently, asking Kurt to tell exactly what happened and who his attackers were. He was actually sleeping himself the day Blaine fully returned conscious again, waking up to his name softly murmured.
"Hi," Blaine said after he sleepily blinked.
Kurt sat up, scooting the stool closer and leaned his elbows onto the frame. "Hi." It was then Kurt saw how much older Blaine had gotten, even though it had only been a year and half. He was growing up like every student in Hogwarts and it hurt him because he knew he would never do the same.
A week into the new semester, Kurt was in his own frame watching time pass by. Blaine hadn't come to visit him yet, and Kurt wasn't sure if he was allowed to come seek him in other places. It had to be Blaine's move, he decided. A decision he had come to hate.
The last bell for class rang, meaning supper was one hour away and Kurt wondered if maybe he could visit the mediwitch called Penny again.
"Hello, Kurt."
Kurt snapped out of his thoughts and his heart leapt at seeing Blaine standing in front of his portrait, all healthy and in his still slightly bigger robes. Next to him was a taller boy with blond hair and big lips Kurt didn't know.
"Blaine!" He wished he could reach out and hug him.
"Um, this is Sam -" Blaine introduced the blond boy. "He's my friend, Sam, this is my friend Kurt."
"So nice to finally meet you," Sam said a little bit too politely like he was in the presence of royalty. "Blaine has told me all about you and your history, pretty impressive."
"I - I'm not him though. I'm just a portrait and -"
"He knows," Blaine interjected. "You're you, and that's also pretty impressive."
Suddenly Kurt realized Blaine forgave him for their fight a year ago, making him want to cry and mouthed 'thank you'.
"Do you mind if we study here?"
"Not at all," he exhaled and watched them study until the bell rang for supper. Over night while Kurt was sleeping a desk and a chair appeared next to his portrait, and he had a feeling who he had to thank for that.
"Did you know he was in love with a man?" Blaine asked later in his third year. He was propped on top of the desk instead of the chair, giving him full view of Kurt's portrait.
"Who?"
"You, well not you - him."
"I kind of assumed with his gay rights protests."
"Right," Blaine blushed. "Anyway, he was in love and he wanted it to be considered okay in the magic world and that's how it all started."
"You read that?"
He nodded. "Yes, when - well, before, I was still doing research in the library."
"You're kind of obsessed with this person I used to be, aren't you?" Kurt teased, making Blaine blush even more.
"I'm just curious."
"So, this man," Kurt continued. "Was he handsome? Does he have a portrait around here?"
A different emotion flashed across Blaine's face, something Kurt couldn't place. "I don't know," Blaine said, suddenly a lot more defensive. "Probably, if you had good taste."
"Blaine?" Silence. "Blaine, are you - are you jealous?"
"What? No!"
Kurt couldn't contain his giggles. "You so are, worried he might replace you as best friend -" He shut his own mouth with his hand - he couldn't help it, it just slipped. Blaine just stared at him in awe.
"Best friend?"
"Well, yes."
"You're mine too," Blaine confessed. "Don't tell Sam."
Kurt fidgeted with his fingers, biting his lip to hide a smile. "Tell me more, please." And so Blaine did. He told of the scandal, the protests and their love. With every word his smile grew, with every sad moment he looked down and midsentence he stopped, staring up at Kurt with his lips apart.
"Blaine? What's wrong?"
"I - um," he swallowed, "I have something to tell you."
"Go ahead." Kurt tilted his head in curiosity.
"I like… boys."
The air was heavy with unspoken words from both Kurt and Blaine, all that was sent between them were long looks. Kurt broke the silence first.
"You -"
"Yes," Blaine said immediately. "That's - that's why they beat me up. They heard me talking to Sam, about you -"
"About me?"
"And what you've done in the past!" Blaine spluttered. "And how - how that's amazing and good for me as I'm… gay."
Kurt didn't know what to say. The information was overwhelming and the fact Blaine trusted him with this was something he barely could take. So instead he thanked him. "For telling me, I mean."
For now that answer was enough to Blaine, his smile sweet and loving.
During Blaine's years at school they only have a little fallout once more during his fifth year. It was the time he had a crush on an older guy who worked at Hogsmeade. But apparently this 'Jeremiah' didn't appreciate Blaine's grand gesture with the Hogwarts choir, of which he was the lead of, and left Blaine sulking at Kurt's portrait for days.
Nothing prepared Kurt for Blaine's sixth year though. Of all the years Kurt knew him, he still saw the little eleven-year old that tripped over his too big robes. His hairs had been cut short over time, but it was still curly and unruly and the his facial features were still soft-looking.
The evening after the welcome feast, Kurt heard him nearing his frame. Squealing with happiness he awaited him, thankful another summer had gone by and as soon as Blaine appeared in his eyesight his breath just vanished.
"Hello, Kurt," Blaine said, and even his voice seemed different. What once were the wild curls, was now a perfect slicked hairdo and he had grown into his robes as they now fit perfectly around him. His face was more chiseled; cheekbones more defined and jaw line sharper.
Kurt tried to retrieve the last time he saw Blaine before the summer, unsure if it was even possible for someone to change over a couple of months, but he was certain Blaine was never like this. Never like… gorgeous.
He always knew Blaine had this handsomeness about him, a gallant vibe that felt like a memory Kurt couldn't recall, and now everything had seemed to come together into an amazing young man that stared at him sweetly.
"Had a good summer?" he asked. Kurt seemed to have lost his trail of words because he had no idea how to talk. "Kurt?"
Blinking vividly he stared upon the boy that had grown into a young man. "G-good, slow as always."
"Well," Blaine swayed a bit on the balls of his feet. "I'm back!"
"Yes, that's – that's good."
For a second Blaine stared at him oddly and Kurt realized that usually he was a bit more talkative to him whenever he came back from the summer holidays. The thing was – he had no idea what to tell him anymore. Blaine looked like an entire different person and Kurt… was still Kurt. Why would Blaine still want to talk to him while he hasn't aged a bit since the first time they met?
"I have to get back to the common room," Blaine said after some time of silence. "Before they come looking for me. Early classes tomorrow and all."
"Okay."
"Kurt? Are you alright?"
No, you're growing up and I'm not. "Yes. Go, I'll see you soon."
"Yeah, I need someone to rant about classes to, don't I?" Blaine smiled at Kurt's nodding. "Missed you," he added sincerely.
"Missed you too," Kurt said, watching him walk away with broad shoulders and strong steps. Like always he looked over his shoulder once to wave and Kurt's painted heart skipped a beat. "Oh God," he said soundlessly. "I'm falling in love."
As a portrait you don't really have to sleep. You do so because you were painted as a human, with human thoughts and needs – or at least those were projected onto you. Kurt therefore didn't have to spend nights sleeping to get through the next day, and neither did he dream. If he wanted to escape reality, he would visit other portraits. One of his favorites was one with a big lilac meadow that seemed endless – but he knew better than that. There was also a mysterious one with only a single staircase, leading nowhere really, but Kurt liked it because it was painted around his era – Blaine had taken him through the history of all his favorites.
One afternoon he had buried himself deeply between the lilacs, looking almost invisible to students walking by. With his eyes closed he could imagine whatever he wanted, and so he did: someone tickling his nose and cupping his jaw. A thumb grazing over his cheekbone and a warm body scooting close against his. His heart would speed up at the touches, causing a chuckle from the person doing the touches because he would notice.
"You're adorable," was murmured into the wind, and he knew that voice he imagined very well. Blaine trailed through his hair with his finger, tugging his head sideways to kiss his cheek with those plump lips.
"Blaine."
"Um, Kurt?" Blaine's voice sounded real all of a sudden. So real even that Kurt opened his eyes, half expecting Blaine to be really with him inside the meadow portrait. A throat was loudly cleared, making Kurt jump up and finding the actual real Blaine staring at the frame. "What were you doing there?"
"Nothing!" he spluttered. "Just day dreaming and –"
"About me?"
"What? No!" Kurt scrambled up to make a run for it, maybe check how far the meadow actually reached and for Blaine to never find him again. "I was just, I don't know –"
"Kurt, you said my name."
"Well, maybe I was pretending we were hanging out and - I didn't day dream… about you and you know what, that's private and –"
Blaine grin simply grew at the more he rambled until he crossed his arms, batted his eyelashes and happily sighed: "I love you."
Everything around Kurt stilled, the wind no longer blowing and the birds no longer chirping. He stared at his best friend that just said the words Kurt had been longing to hear – words of love.
"Oh God," Blaine gasped, realizing what he just said. "Oh my God."
"Blaine?"
"I have to go." Quick as he could he turned around and walked away to corridors Kurt knew didn't have any portraits. It was easy to avoid Kurt, something Blaine had proven his second and partly third year. Just avoid any portraits Kurt could enter and hide.
It, however, didn't stop Kurt from looking with his heart beating high in his throat. Blaine said he loved me, was his fuel to keep looking and for a terrifying moment he even considered entering his common room, something he hadn't done before. He would save that for after curfew and something told him Blaine was still walking around the castle anyway.
Practically panting he went to check his own frame before getting in a lot of trouble and enter the common room. The yellow birds twittered loudly when he walked through their portrait, the one that like sitting on his shoulder following to his own frame.
The bird picked at his jaw, making him frown and look down to it, but of course it couldn't speak. He noticed something moving in the corridor and right there before his own frame sat Blaine on the floor, legs crossed and back curled inwards.
"Blaine?" he asked in relief, the bird flying back to his frame.
Blaine didn't look up and began to fidget with his fingers, starting meaningless patterns of which fingers should touch. Kurt took the moment of silence to sit down, catching his breath and waiting, luckily not for long before Blaine said: "I must be crazy." He sighed heavily. "Falling in love with a portrait."
"I – I don't know."
He still refused to look up. "Still I did."
"I guess it's just… a little strange," Kurt said, but Blaine merely huffed.
"I've tried so many times to tell myself it wasn't so, that it couldn't – that I was weird enough already. I've had crushes on – on Jeremiah, on Sam –"
"Wait what?"
"I even took Tina out on a date even though I know I'm one hundred percent gay, I just –" his breathing hitched. "I just can't stop loving you." Finally he looked up with tears in his eyes. "I don't know how. I don't know if I want to." Kurt felt his own eyes water, not sure if anything he could say would be justified to what he was really feeling. "I must be crazy."
"I guess you are," Kurt said. "But – is it as crazy as someone that didn't even know who he was, until he met a little boy that told him? Is it as crazy as a portrait to learn about his life by someone who wasn't even a quarter of his age? Blaine? Is it as crazy as a portrait that's stuck in time, that will never age until the paint cracks, and fell in love with a human boy that still has his entire life in front of him?"
Blaine's lower lip was trembling as he couldn't form the words to respond, his eyes shimmering with wonder and love.
"Is it, Blaine? Is it as crazy?"
"I – I guess it is."
"Then we're both crazy."
Tripping a little, Blaine stood up, not caring about his askew robes or red face. To Kurt he had never looked more beautiful, and he swallowed loudly at seeing Blaine raise his hand. Close to his paint, Blaine's hand hovered and after a careful minute he laid his hand on the portrait for the first time ever. Kurt wished he felt something, something stirring or anything, but it was mostly just a little pressure. Hesitating he balled his own hand into a fist before stretching it again and placed it on the exact spot of Blaine's.
The warmth of their hands touching was easily imagined, both of them staring down at them and the tears rolled freely.
"I love you," was whispered once again.
"I love you too," was the easiest reply.
Truth be told: hanging out even hurt more now they were in love. Their time was filled with 'what ifs' and 'when yous', and none of them could come true.
Blaine's last year ended in chaos due the reveal of one of the teachers having the Dark Lord attached to his head and a little boy named Harry Potter throwing amok. Luckily Blaine already did his final exams, and spent his last free moments wandering around the castle with Kurt by his side.
"You don't happen to have another portrait you can go to, do you?" Blaine mused. He was basically a scholar in portrait history and knowledge, planning on learning even more in London. Kurt didn't even answer his question because Blaine knew it well enough.
It was the final day and Kurt's heart heaved with what he was about to do. "Blaine."
"I know that tone, so don't even dare." Blaine looked so grown up, but still filled with endless impossibilities.
"I want you to know, that I understand that if you… forget –"
"Forget you?" They arrived at Kurt's portrait for the final farewell. "That's a ridiculous thought."
"It's just, these past two years have been amazing, but one day – you're going to be older, and I won't. I'll be here. And you'll meet someone else, and fall in love and I want you to know that you have my blessing if you do." He swallowed. "And if you have child-children, tell them to come visit me and I'll show them around and –"
"Kurt, stop."
"I just don't want you to waste your life on me."
Blaine huffed and to Kurt's surprise he smiled. "But life will be worth wasting it on you."
In the distance the soft drums of students leaving for the Hogwarts Express echoed, making both of them look up.
"Don't forget what I said," Kurt said.
"Don't forget what I said either." Blaine buttoned his robes for the last time. "I'll come back, promise."
For the longest time, those would be the last words Blaine ever said to Kurt. The promise of coming back made Kurt wait and they never said goodbyes. So Kurt promised never to say goodbye to Blaine.
What were six years to a portrait that was over a century old? Compared to the years Blaine was at Hogwarts a very long time. Even though after Blaine left every year something extraordinary or bizarre happened – Chamber of Secrets reopened, and Kurt remembered the first time very well, an escaped prisoner defiled a portrait (Kurt was still enraged by that) and that tournament that had gotten someone killed.
The years grew darker after that, ending with the school looking black as night and the evil wizards controlling every class.
Kurt kept quiet mostly, trying to protect the castle by spying. As long as he remained unnoticed, his frame would be safe and unharmed unlike other less subtle portraits.
But then May came.
He wasn't in his frame the moment of the first attack, running around Hogwarts instead to warn everyone that wasn't in the Great Hall or with teachers. Only after orders to keep guard at his own corridor he returned to his frame – he was the only portrait that could give the signal should the enemy come inside through his hallway.
Racing through the birds portraits, the one that kept following when he was with Blaine decided to come to his portrait as well and Kurt held his breath at the sight in the distance. Lights flashed back and forth, so he knew the fighting was close.
The yelling became louder and the footsteps were nearing his corridor. Just as he was about to ring the alarm, a single figure came running straight toward him instead of by.
"Kurt!" The voice alone made his heart leap and his breath falter because no, no you can't be here. "Kurt!" Blaine said again, running so fast he braced himself against the wall to reduce the impact.
"Why are you here?" Kurt said panicked. "You can't –"
"I came as soon there was word of the battle, I need to help where I can –"
"No! No! It's not safe."
"Sam's fighting too, we need to defend the castle!" Blaine's entire demeanor was madness, eyes wide and hair wild. He aged, of course he did, but to Kurt he was still handsome as ever. "What if the castle burns, Kurt? What about you?" Blaine started to fumble around his frame, trying to release it. "I'll put you somewhere safe, and get you after because –"
"But what about you, Blaine?" Kurt cried. "I'm just a painting I can –"
"You're not just a painting." Quivering Blaine brought his hand up to lay it against Kurt's face. "You never were, not to me. I found you, Kurt. I found your grave, your house – I met your descendants."
"What?"
"They look so much like you." A hard explosion made Blaine stagger forward against his frame, but he stayed put. "I found your grave and you were buried together with the man you loved. I've read it all and I found the magic that will bring us together."
"What are talking about?"
Blaine looked even more mad with a smile on his face. "We were meant to find each other in every lifetime, every form – portrait or not, human or not, it doesn't matter. There is a moment, where you say to yourself 'oh there you are, I've been looking for you forever'." His entire chest heaved. "We must always find each other, and then we can be together."
The flashes in the background grew immense together with the uproar.
"Oh, Blaine," Kurt sniffed. "I wish we could be together –"
"We will," he said while pulling his frame again. "We will be together, fearlessly and forever –" A bright green flash illuminated the corridor – the corridor they met, fought and fell in love, and where now the shimmer in Blaine's eyes faded, the smile vanished and the life in him disappeared.
He fell while still gripping Kurt's frame, dying in front of the love of his life and collapsing on the floor with an echoing thud.
For a dreadful moment Kurt didn't understand what happened. His frame swayed on the pin that kept him up for all those decades, blurring his vision of the body lying there. Blaine's body.
A blood coiling scream then escaped his throat, fists slamming the barrier and sobbing Blaine's name over and over again. He kept pounding the barrier until the pin gave up on holding him, sending Kurt's frame to the ground. With a crash he fell and saw one final glance of Blaine's lifeless face before the frame fell over and his vision became dark.
He had no idea how much time had passed after someone picked his frame up. The broad daylight was painful to his eyes and the first thing he noticed was the disappearance of Blaine's body. The interior of his portrait shook at the movement, making him brace himself on the frames of the barrier.
Carefully he was placed against the wall and his rescuer came to vision.
"Sam," Kurt croaked, taking in the state of the man's appearance; he looked older and worn out. "Is – is it over?"
"We won the battle," he confirmed. "But –" His voice broke.
"He's dead," Kurt filled in. Saying out loud made it all more true, and it hurt. "Where did they take him?"
"To the Great Hall with – with the others." Sam dried his tears with his sleeve. "They're waiting for his family to bring him home."
Kurt's breathing turned raspy. "There aren't any paintings in the Great Hall," he hiccupped. "I want –"
Sam's low shush soothed him. "I'll pick up your frame." He nodded at Kurt's questioning look. "I'll bring you to him." He was already halfway picking him up before Kurt could brace himself, swaying inside the interior until he reached a place filled with human murmurs.
Swallowing at the sight of with blankets covered bodies he felt a bit ill, and not because of the swaying. People were probably looking oddly at Sam carrying in a portrait, except neither cared. Kurt tried to block out the sobbing and crying and failed miserable as the tears already made their return on his cheeks.
He stopped breathing all together after being placed down against a bench with full view on a blanket shaped like Blaine.
"It's my fault," he said softly.
"No it's not."
"He promised to come back, and now more than ever I wished he didn't keep it."
"You can't change faith, Kurt," Sam whispered, laying his hand onto Kurt's frame. "He knew what he was getting into, he got hit by a stray curse." He squeezed. "And you know what? He wouldn't have wanted it any other way."
"Sam, what are you even saying?"
"I know Blaine, knew him at school and after. If you'd ask him 'what's the last thing you want to see before you die?', he would have answered you. He wouldn't even hesitate."
"That's not really helping, Sam. He still had his entire life before him."
"And yet he wouldn't have trade those final minutes with you for an entire life without." Sam suddenly stood up. "There are his parents."
Kurt looked up once, quickly hiding in the dark of his frame and overheard the soft murmurs of parents mourning their son. There was a quick mention of him by his mother. "Is that -?"
"Yes," Sam only answered, and they returned to the conversation.
Kurt knew he had no business here, not anymore, and took a step to find the closest portrait. He walked through frames until he reached an abandoned tower where a single portrait hang. Empty, of course, as everyone was downstairs picking up the pieces. He didn't know how long he stayed there, but he did until his tears ran dry, and that was a very long time.
He dared to walk around the castle again once everyone started to pick up the pieces. Walls that held frames were restored, paintings did their best to help others by offering a listening ear.
Sighing deeply he kept lingering around the hall of the Headmaster's Office. It was silly – there was a chance he didn't even know the explanation he needed. After all he was just a portrait of someone, and was probably taught more important information to pass on.
It was still worth a shot, he figured and stepped inside the same frame he did all those years ago, finding it empty to his surprise; all the frames were, apart the one he needed.
"Professor Dumbledore," he said formally, making the man look up at him. "I – I don't know if –"
"My dear Master Hummel," Dumbledore interrupted. "I have been a portrait of a Headmaster for the longest time, my human form had enough time to tell me things and who may ask about it." He motioned for Kurt to come closer and he scooted a few frames. "Now, what you are asking is something he told me a few years ago, after Blaine, is it?"
"Was," Kurt choked. "He –"
"Doesn't matter." Kurt wanted to interject that it did matter, but he bit his tongue. "He told me after Blaine was attacked and you came here for help. My human form admired you, you know."
"I met him – when he was a student, he told me –"
"That he was in love with a boy, yes, do you realize why he told you of all portraits?" He looked over his half-moon glasses.
"Because of my human's past."
"Precisely."
"I didn't know about that then, not until B-Blaine told me." Kurt stepped even closer.
"Still, you were there, the closest thing to the human form that was Kurt Hummel." Dumbledore smiled. "Now tell me why you're here."
"Blaine said we would be together, but that was an impossible thought, wasn't it? I'm a portrait, I'm limited and he's human."
"Humans are also limited."
"He said we were meant to find each other in every lifetime, and we did, didn't we?" He waited for Dumbledore to nod. "But we didn't get to be together, fearlessly and for-forever."
"Not the way you are now, no," Dumbledore said.
"He was also my human form's loved one, wasn't he? His previous lifetime?"
"Reincarnation is a tricky kind of magic, my knowledge isn't up for it, but yes – there's a chance that he was indeed."
Kurt took the final leap and stepped into Dumbledore's frame. "Except his lifetime here was cut too short."
Dumbledore looked at him seriously for a final time. "You can't expect people to live forever like ourselves, Master Hummel. Keep in mind that faith is also a tricky kind of magic."
A throat was cleared and one of the portraits was filled again. "Excuse me, sirs – Mister Hummel you are wanted at your frame."
Kurt frowned, why would he be summoned? "I -"
"Go, Master Hummel," Dumbledore encouraged. "You can always return when you have other questions. We are here forever, after all."
After a nod and a goodbye, Kurt walked out back to his frame. It had been hung back to its usual spot, but Kurt hadn't gone back for long as the vision of the corridor still stung his heart.
He came back to murmurs, not paying a lot of attention to the rubble still lying around that the cleaners hadn't reached yet. Turned out it was Sam waiting for him, a soft smile decorating his face.
"How you've been, Sam?" he asked.
"It's been… challenging without Blaine." Sam took a deep breath. "I'm here for something, though, um, you can't see it from there –"
"See what?" Kurt looked to the right where Sam was motioning to, but there was nothing but blackness and the opening to the next portrait.
"I'm pretty sure Blaine never told you, but I'm a kind of talented artist," he continued. "Mostly art with pasta, don't ask –" he said hastily at Kurt's curious look. "But I've been painting while Blaine studied portraits. Took courses, learned enchantments –"
"Sam, where are you going at?"
"There is a way for you to be together, but it won't be the Blaine we knew."
Something inside Kurt's chest began to glow, soft and warm and in the distance he heard the twittering of the yellow birds. "You didn't."
"He's right next to you, unmoving… for now."
Kurt looked again to the darkness, now knowing that in between there is a whole new frame with – with Blaine. "Sam," he whispered.
"I wanted to wait for your approval, whether you wanted it. It's a huge gamble and may only cause more trouble, but –"
"We could be together."
"Yes."
"I can teach him all the things he did and if he's different I could still love him." He turned back to Sam. "Thank you."
"I'll take that as a go?" he asked with a smirk, raising his wand after Kurt nodded and casting the spell.
Kurt had never witnessed a portrait come to life, as most of them here were already for centuries. Next to him streams of light revealed the portrait paint brush by paint brush, showing a house like interior and a man standing in front of the frame, hands down his pockets. It was undoubtedly Blaine, with suspenders, a bow tie and plaid shirt. As soon as the enchantment settled and Blaine blinked, Kurt couldn't stop himself anymore. He ran through the darkness into Blaine's frame, tackling him into a hug and sobbing loudly into his shoulder.
Blaine startled underneath him, but weirdly enough returned the hug. "Ex-excuse me?" Hearing him, touching him – it all made Kurt cry louder, even though he should really stop. "I'm new here, I think."
Kurt pulled back, cupping his jaw and just looking at him. "Yes, yes you are."
"Who are you?" Blaine asked, staring at him in wonder. "Who am I? Where am I?"
"I had all those questions once too, but someone helped me answer them." He smiled, happy that Blaine did the same. "I should return the favor."
He wasn't sure if Blaine understood, but he took his answer for granted when he said: "Okay."
The End.