Prologue – When Kurt Screwed Up, Even Though He Really Didn't

It had been three hours. At least three hours since the game had started (probably more, lets be honest). The first hour had been frustrating, to say the least… Hufflepuff scoring endlessly, while Slytherin kept its staggering score of zero points. They tried, oh they tried, but nothing got past that fucking new Keeper, and every rebound maneuver was another ten points for Hufflepuff because apparently Lauren Zizes had forgotten all her skills and what a Keeper's supposed to do.

All the while Kurt had been frantically searching for the Snitch. Five minutes in he'd understood this game could only be won if the Snitch was caught early. But damn, Marley Rose had taken to following him around, and if he even so much as sneezed she was cutting him off and making sure he didn't catch the snitch. She stalled and it worked.

An hour into the game Hufflepuff had scored its sixteenth goal and Marley had finally left him on his own and gone to look for the Snitch herself. She knew she didn't stand a chance, of course, she knew Kurt would catch it easily. But she also knew that Kurt had to wait for a miraculous turn in score.

Two hours into the game and it was just plain humiliating.

Three hours and it was a bloodbath.

Slytherin was not even close to catching up and Kurt had explicit orders not to catch the snitch until that happened. Jesse St. James was Captain and his philosophy was quite literally "all or nothing". Kurt was pretty sure that the only thing that philosophy was earning them right then was a staggering defeat and no chance in hell they'd even get second place to Hufflepuff.

Kurt watched as Jesse St. James made a particularly fast and aggressive offensive towards the Hufflepuff goal posts. He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping to every deity he didn't believe in that it would go in and they'd have a measly ten points.

It didn't.

That's also when it happened. Marley zoomed right past him, straight at something, and he looked and there it was, in all its miniscule, golden glory, the Snitch.

As he took off, speeding to the best of his and his broom's abilities, he could barely catch Jesse's booming voice, "STALL!"

But it was too late, there was no stalling unless he committed a foul, and that was another ten points to Hufflepuff, and fuck it, Jesse was wrong, second place was better than fourth and humiliated. Wasn't it better to lose by a margin of seventy points then a margin of three hundred and seventy? He took in a deep breath as his hand curled around the golden snitch.

It was instantaneous. Cheers erupting from the Hufflepuff stands and groans from the Slytherin. Kurt could feel Jesse's glare at the back of his neck. He looked anywhere else as he darted to the ground and hopped off his broom, Snitch fighting his hold.

From the corner of his eye he saw the canary yellow robes of Hufflepuff's wonder-Keeper as the boy landed smoothly on the grass. He couldn't help looking at him.

With a smirk, if there ever was one on a fucking Hufflepuff, Blaine Anderson shot him a thumbs-up and Kurt flipped him off. Anderson laughed and winked and Kurt groaned and turned around.

Part 1, With the very strange proposition

"I'm sure you'd be Captain this year if you hadn't thrown the game last year." Rachel points out, as if she hadn't spent the entire previous year in seething jealousy over Jesse clearly never considering her for captainship. As if she'd really ever had Kurt's back on this subject. "Besides, it's okay, you can be Captain next year."

Kurt quirks an eyebrow, "Fat chance."

"Why would you say that?" She shrugs, and there's thinly veiled hope there that he's going to say it's because she deserves it.

"Everyone knows Smythe hates me." He points out.

Before Rachel can say anything, there's a voice from the compartment door, "I've always thought it was unresolved sexual tension." Santana drawls, draped over the door, "May I join you two losers? Everywhere else is full of even worse losers."

"Everywhere else is full of people who told you no." Kurt sighs back, but gestures for her to sit down.

"Same thing, isn't it?" she smirks as she levitates her luggage into place.

"Hello, Santana." Rachel says pointedly and the other two frown at her, before Santana rolls her eyes and sits down. They're quickly joined by Kitty Wilde, a fifth year and surprisingly good beater for their house team, and her best friend Sugar Motta, before the Hogwarts Express whistles its final warning and the engines screech to life.

"Sixth year…" Rachel mutters, "Here we go."

"Ugh." Kitty groans, "Fifth year… OWL's…!"

"It's not that hard." Kurt shrugs, "They make it sound worse than it is. Just keep on top of things and don't leave the studying to the last minute."

"He's insane. He's lying. It's hell." Santana tells them, just as the compartment door is flung open.

"Oh!" Blaine Anderson is standing there in all his idiotic glory, wide eyed and cringing, "Wrong compartment. Sorry, guys." He makes to close the door, too fast for even Santana to think of something horrible to say, before he turns back and scrunches up his nose in a way that some would describe as adorable, but definitely not Kurt, "Any of you know where the Prefect's meeting is supposed to be?"

Kurt notices the shiny new badge on Anderson's chest. On Anderson's already impeccably uniformed chest.

He sighs, and digs in his pocket for his own Prefect badge, "I guess we should get going, Rach." With the most sardonic smile he can muster he says, "Come with us, Anderson."

"Thanks."

Kurt wants to tell him he's really not doing him any favors, but he just keeps his mouth shut and his glare murderous.

Sitting through the start of the year Prefect meeting is just as boring the second time around. Maybe more. He's no longer enchanted by the idea of having been chosen as the best Slytherin boy in his year, or even the idea of getting to roam the halls after curfew, or of the semblance of authority it's supposed to carry… It's just another responsibility. It's not even like he gets a free pass to the library's restricted section.

He spaces out while the Head Boy, Mike Chang, explains to the newbies what the job is all about, and tunes back in just in time to get his patrol schedule, and be dismissed.

Thankfully, the rest of the ride is fairly pleasant, spent with Rachel, Santana and Kitty debating new strategies for this year, and thinking of new ways to improve practice. Not that it matters much of course. The Captainship went to Smythe, and there's a zero per cent chance he'll listen to other people's ideas and opinions.

They get dressed barely more than five minutes before the train stops, which means they're hurrying trying to catch a good, empty carriage, but to no avail. And of course… of course.

"Oh! Hey guys." Blaine Anderson smiles – Kurt's not entirely sure if it's sarcastic or genuine, but… we're talking about a Hufflepuff here, are we not? Sam Evans has his feet on the seat opposite him, and Anderson bats them away discreetly. Begrudgingly Kurt nods in acknowledgment before he sits down.

"Figures…" Santana drawls, crossing her arms over her chest.

Evans is tucking his chin into his collar, clearly masking his amusement, and Anderson's lips are quirked up ever so slightly.

"For what is worth, Hummel," Anderson says after two minutes of excruciatingly awkward silence, "I actually thought what you did last year at the game was the right thing to do."

"Yes, because you won." Kurt rolls his eyes and doesn't even try to hide his annoyance. He'd been mocked enough for what happened over the last few weeks of last year.

"No, because you got to keep your dignity." Anderson shrugs.

There's a moment of silence. Kurt can't tell if he's taunting him or genuinely agreeing with his actions.

"It's not like I need the approval of some yellow potato."

There's a general guffaw from the girls, and Kurt feels a little warmer at that. When he looks back to the boy, though, Anderson is grinning and chuckling.

"Wow! That's one I hadn't heard before… Yellow potato!" He says it like he's weighing the words on his tongue, before he shrugs and nods with the easiest, most unaffected smile, "Yup, I like it. It's a good one. Kudos!"

Somehow that's all it takes to wipe the smug smirks off the girls' faces and Kurt can't help scowling.

The rest of the way to the castle is spent in absolute, cold silence. Kurt and the girls stare intently out the window, while Anderson and Evans exchange looks and expressions Kurt can't really see because he'd rather die than be caught staring. Evans puts his feet up on Anderson's lap. Anderson pushes them off. Evans puts them on again, and Anderson lets them be.

The minute that the carriage pulls to a halt they're scrambling off. Kurt's yards away by the time the two Hufflepuff boys are hopping off the carriage and their loud laughter trails after him.

He ignores the uncomfortable feeling that sound leaves in his stomach, and makes his way to the castle, taking two steps at a time and crossing the Entrance Hall quickly. He sits down where he's always sat dawn, flanked by Rachel and Santana, as they patiently wait for the first years to arrive. Kurt notices Sebastian Smythe a little ways away – the captain's badge on his chest looks disgustingly shiny.

Kurt had been hoping that the summer holidays would've been enough time for people to forget his faux pas at the game, but apparently – if the train ride wasn't enough evidence – the way that Smythe smirks when their eyes meet proves him entirely wrong. Even now, as people make their way to their seats, there are a few mouthed off "Caught a lot of snitches this summer, Hummel?" or "Still having trouble with premature endings?".

He rolls his eyes at each one and pretends not to be bothered.

He grins as he spots Mercedes on the other end of the hall, and she waves cheerfully back. Next to her is Finn, also waving, also cheerful. Kurt frowns and waves back with a sarcastic smile. They'd last seen each other while boarding the train after saying goodbye to their married parents and having spent the summer in the same house.

"Weird guy, your brother." Santana notes.

"Stepbrother." Kurt corrects her. He doesn't mention that this last couple of months they actually spent a good deal of time playing one-on-one quidditch, playing wizard's chess (the easiest ego boost Kurt has ever found), and… well, having fun. Together.

Their parents' marriage is still fresh and Kurt's not entirely ready to let go of his resentment, but he can't deny it was a good summer. He hadn't seen his dad this happy in a long time; and Carole is a good woman, without a doubt. Even if her son is a giant idiot (not really, though).

"Right…" Santana nods, while Rachel open and closes her mouth as if she's trying to keep herself from asking something.

"They broke up." Kurt informs her.

"What?"

"You're that transparent." He tells her, smiling before he can help himself. When she blushes, he chuckles. It's kind of cute, honestly, how big a crush Rachel has on Finn. "They broke up over the summer. Finn is a free man. You may pursue." He knocks their shoulders together and adds, "Not that that was ever stopping you."

She blushes deeper and bites her lip, and he laughs harder.

Watching the sorting ceremony has become less and less exciting each year, but Kurt makes the effort to applaud energetically each time some eleven-year-old kid joins their table.

He spends the entire meal catching up with everyone else – or rather, he lets Rachel and Santana do most of the talking and enjoys listening to everyone's news, Lauren Zizes always has some… colorful stories (this year featuring Gryffindor's one and only Noah Puckerman). Thankfully they've learned not to sit close to the first years, having outgrown the naive enthusiasm for being seen as the wise ones long ago, and preferring to spend their meal having fun together rather than quenching the excitement and curiosity of eleven year old kids.

After the Headmaster, Professor Figgins, has given his usual speech, equal parts bizarre and wrong, they head out to their first night back in the dorms. Kurt and Rachel trail after the group of little first years, making sure the new Prefects don't screw anything up. He takes the opportunity to flick his wand and make sure that everyone's ties are properly tied – Rachel gives him an amused look.

-x-

At breakfast the next day, Kurt twitches his nose at his newly received timetable. He starts the day with Double Potions with Gryffindor. It's not so bad because it's Gryffindor, so he'll be able to chat with Mercedes and congratulate her for being made Quidditch Captain, as well as spend some time with Finn, maybe. But on the other hand it's Double Potions. With Professor Sylvester.

He still can't decide if he likes her – he imagines he'll graduate Hogwarts still undecided – even though he's pretty sure she likes him. At first he was adamant she hated him, because of all the nicknames, but then he noticed that everyone had nicknames and his were the only ones that, in a far away world, if you needed glasses and weren't wearing them, could be perceived as endearing. Also, she was instrumental in getting Karofsky expelled in the beginning of last year. Professor Beiste and Professor Pillsburry were sympathetic and did their best to keep him at bay and punish him severely, but ultimately it was Professor Sylvester who was able to make that final step. Rumor had it she threatened Figgins – no one knew what the threat consisted of, but 99% of the students believe it happened.

Kurt would always be grateful for that. But this morning he just really didn't want to endure a double lesson with the intensity of that woman.

He was trying to remember why he even decided to continue with Potions when someone dropped to the seat in front of him, yanking the parchment out of his hands.

"Hummel."

"Smythe." Kurt sighs, bringing his eyes up to his dearest Captain's face.

"Guess who's going to have practice Tuesday and Thursday evenings and Saturday mornings?"

Kurt frowned, "Us…?"

"Right on." Sebastian nods with a semi-solemn expression and Kurt wrinkles his nose in distaste.

"Whatever happened to morning practices so no one will be spying on us?" Kurt quirked an eyebrow.

"Educated guess…?" Sebastian prompts looking like there's a big dump of horseshit right under his nose.

"Hufflepuff?"

"Chang got the first pick at the time slots, so of course he gets Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday morning."

"Okay… but why don't we have Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, then?"

Sebastian falters for a moment, "Listen it's not my fault they were all there waaay before the arranged time, I-"

"You overslept and were last to choose." Kurt deadpans.

"That's not what matters right now."

Kurt sighs and checks his watch, "Do tell. What matters?"

"So, our first game this year is with Hufflepuff. October 5th. We have got to win it, cuz if we take another beating like last time we might as well kiss the Cup goodbye – cuz you know they're gonna beat everyone else, too."

"Alright. So, we practice harder and we get first and second years to guard the pitch and make sure no one's spying on us."

"Like that would do us any good. No… I got something else in mind."

"You want to find a way to get us to switch timeslots with them?" Kurt asks, confused and frustrated by Sebastian beating around the bush.

"They could have the worst time slots and they'd still be the team to beat while they have Anderson as their Keeper. Unless you get the Snitch in time, which, apparently is not something I can put my money on,-"

"Or maybe you could just do your jobs and score goals."

"You don't get it." Sebastian dismisses his annoyance at once before he keeps going, "Also Zizes makes us look pathetic." Kurt scrunches his nose in agreement – it's not that she's a bad keeper, it's just that when you put her next to Anderson the difference is abysmal, "So it really doesn't matter when they practice. What matters is taking the golden boy out of the picture. Their chasers are good, but we're pretty evenly matched, so with him gone, we can make do until you get the Snitch, because you're at least better than that Marley girl."

"Oh-kay…" Kurt frowns, "Are you suggesting we injure him before the game or something? Because I'm pretty sure we'd be prime suspects and probably disqualified for that…"

"Hummel…" Smythe sighs, a mischievous smile taking over his features, "You know what I recently realized has been lacking from my approach to life?" Kurt doesn't answer any of the infinite list of possibilities he could supply at a moment's notice, he just checks his watch again and quirks an annoyed eyebrow, "Subtlety."

"Sure. I don't disagree so far. Get on with it please. I got double potions so I really can't be late."

"You want to be Captain next year, right?"

Kurt can't help but be surprised at that. He always thought he'd never give him a passing thought for the position – Santana had always been the obvious choice, at least as far as Smythe was concerned. "Yes."

"Well, here's your chance to strike a deal with me. You get Anderson out of the game and I'll leave a very thorough and heartfelt recommendation for you as Captain. And you know that's the only thing that matters."

"How do you suppose I do that without risking disqualification, detention or expulsion myself?"

Sebastian shrugs, "He's gay, he's not half bad – in fact he's not even a twelfth bad –, he probably believes in things like true love and romance, he screams virgin, there's plenty of time before the game…"

Kurt's jaw drops in horror (or maybe it drops because at least his body knows he should be horrified at the mere suggestion of it) "You're suggesting I…"

"Seduce him. Make him fall in love with you. Break his heart on the eve of the game. Render him useless…?" Sebastian shrugs casually with a smirk, "If that's what you think it'll take."

He doesn't bother reminding Sebastian that Kurt believes in true love and romance, and that he is a virgin. He just shakes his head, "Absolutely not."

"What's the matter, afraid of falling in love…?"

"With someone who had to repeat the year?" Kurt scoffs, "No."

"So there you go." Sebastian laughs heartily, "He's the reason you were the laughing stock last year, and probably all of summer, and a little bit still this year…"

Kurt bites his tongue and doesn't say that the whole team should've been the laughing stock instead of just egging everything on and redirecting it all towards him.

"No."

"Think about it and get back to me." Sebastian smiles, too much sugar and not enough honesty, "Remember: no love, no badge." He adds as he stands up and leaves.

Kurt is left staring after him, and completely rooted to his place. It's not until Rachel comes to find him and ask him if he's not coming to class that he manages to somewhat snap out of it and get moving.

If he could just stop thinking about it, his day would've ben a pretty good day. Potions had the promise of actually interesting potions, and sitting next to Mercedes was always pretty cool. There wasn't a lot for them to catch up on, because they were always careful to keep in touch over the summer, but there are always little details worth mentioning now.

He teases her about her Captain badge, and she smiles a little sad and tells him it might actually have been a parting gift from Anthony, last year's Captain. They'd been an item, but he'd been a seventh year and apparently, she tells him, he'd waited until the very end of Summer to tell her about an opportunity abroad, and that he didn't want to do long distance.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he tells her, "But if you got the badge it's because you earned it."

Afterwards he ignores Sebastian's questioning looks throughout lunch, and heads out to Charms, with Ravenclaw as fast as he can. Professor Tibideaux isn't one to waste time, everyone knows, but still they can't help groaning as she dives head first into class, making sure to give them plenty of homework. Kurt doesn't mind it too much – he enjoys Charms for the most part. It may not be Transfiguration, but it's better than Care of Magical Creatures or Herbology which, thank god, he doesn't have anymore.

Also, it's the second year he has Charm with the Ravenclaws and it's actually funny to share this particular class with them, because Professor Tibideaux is their head of house and always very eager to show everyone that only means extra expectations for them. The way the Ravenclaw students strive for correct answers and points only to have her always shooting back that one bit extra of information that should have been said and not attribute them the points is fairly amusing. Some of them, the more eager to please and impress, like Tina Cohen-Chang and Artie Abrams often times leave the classroom red faced and sweating.

Afterwards he has Ancient Runes with the small scatter of students that chose the subject, every house together. It's nice and peaceful.

So, all in all, a perfectly good first day back to school.

All the while, though, he can't stop thinking about Sebastian's insane proposal. Tina Cohen-Chang is seated in front of him, in Runes, and Kurt's heart is racing because he thinks that maybe somehow Chang has developed the ability to read minds and knows that the deepest, most obscure parts of Kurt are actually considering messing with Anderson's head just to get ahead in Quidditch. Each time the girl sighs or runs a hand through her hair Kurt think she's just about to shoot out of her chair and make her way to Professor Beiste to tell her all about how Kurt wants to purposefully break her friend's heart.

Kurt had no idea his sanity was so fragile.

He rolls his eyes. He's not gonna do it. He might not be crazy about Anderson, but he'd never be that person. The person to hurt someone like that on purpose.

"So, did you practice your math this summer?" Hunter, a 7th year Slytherin, smirked just as Kurt made his way inside the common room, to change clothes before practice, "So you know how much one hundred and fifty really is?"

Kurt clenches his jaw and hurries to his dorm.

-x-

Practice is grueling because apparently Smythe thinks that exhausting them into hating Quidditch is a good tactic to win, and when Kurt leaves he's drenched in sweat and dragging his feet. He doesn't do it often, but if there was ever a time to use the Prefect's bathroom, this would be it. He'll probably fall asleep in the warm water and miss dinner, but it'll be completely worth it.

He can practically smell the salts he's gonna use when he turns the corner and Blaine Fucking Anderson himself is walking calmly with a bathrobe and neatly folded clean clothes in his hands, towards the door.

Blaine notices him too, and he looks a little startled for a second, "Oh, hi!"

Kurt gives him a strained smile. Sighs, and stops. "Nevermind…" he mutters, as he starts to turn around.

"No, wait!" Blaine calls, "I… It's… You had practice right now, right?"

"Were you spying?" Kurt arches an eyebrow.

Blaine frowns, his easy smile fading a little, "What? No. I… Mike told me how the meeting went, for the timeslots. I actually think it's unfair you guys got to pick last, just because Smythe got there last. You should've picked second, because your team came in second last year."

Kurt doesn't really know what to respond to that, so instead he points to the bathroom door, "So…?"

"Oh! You take it! You had practice, you must be exhausted. I can just go take a shower and experiment the new perk some other time." Oh, right, Blaine had just been made a Prefect, "Being a Prefect is no not as cool as I thought it would be, but this might actually make up for it, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Kurt shrugs.

"I mean, they could at least give us unlimited access to Restricted Section books…"

"I…" Kurt frowns a little taken a back at that. He manages to recover quickly, "You shouldn't worry, I've checked it out, I don't think there are any books there about growing a personality, or anything."

Blaine's expression darkens at once, "Why do you have to be like this? What did I even do to you? Is a stupid game that important to you?"

Kurt bites his tongue when his first instinct is to say that Yes, a stupid game is really that important to him when it makes him the laughing stock of the whole school. "I apologize," he shrugs, "I guess I'm just threatened by overall lack of backbone and self-respect. I'm afraid it's contagious, you see?"

"What?"

"If you manage to be nice to me even after what I called y-"

"I'm polite. That doesn't mean I don't have a backbone."

Kurt scrunches his nose, "You say polite, I say potahto." He smirks, "See what I did there?"

Blaine gives him a scathing look and shakes his head. "Fine. Be that way."

"Uhh. Feisty."

"You don't know me." Blaine tells him in a tone that's mostly angry, with indentations of sadness or exhaustion, "You have no idea who I am."

"Are you threatening me?"

Anderson frowns at him and rolls his eyes, "No. I'm saying you're an asshole making assumptions about me when you don't know squat."

And then, he does something that really, definitely surprises Kurt. Instead of stalking off he mutters "breeze", yanks the bathroom door open and slams it closed in Kurt's face.

"Oh…"

Well… he won't be missing dinner after all.

As he makes his way back to the Slytherin dorms, he can't help but feel some sort of nagging sensation in his stomach, and he can't quite make out what it is. Could it possibly be remorse? It's not like Kurt has anything to be remorseful of, is it? He's not doing Smythe's bidding, so he literally has nothing to be remorseful of – he's making the right choice; the good guy choice. In fact, if you thought about it, by insulting Anderson he'd just been making sure to do the opposite of what Smythe wanted him to. He's going the extra mile in the opposite direction, some might say. If anything, he should be feeling proud of himself. For being such a good person.

Yes, that's it. Pride. That was the funny feeling in his stomach. Pride of himself and his impeccable character.

-x-

"You look a little…" Rachel grimaces to indicate her meaning, and Kurt just drops his chin to his palm, and contemplates his options for dinner. Contrary to him, she looks fresh and relaxed after her shower. He had to take his fast if he wanted to make in time to catch any decent, warm food. If anything, it only served to make him even more stressed.

"I had a weird day." He tells her, grabbing the mashed potatoes and piling two spoonfuls onto his plate, "Pass me the chicken please."

"I mean, practice was brutal, and I'll admit I always thought Smythe had a little psycho in him… just not so much. But it wasn't that weird. I almost expected it."

"I don't mean that." Kurt mutters.

"I just… I thought today was a pretty good day, actually. As far as first days go. Usually there's always some smart ass remembering-"

"It's not that. It's specifically my issue." He shrugs and she gives him a questioning look.

"Well…?"

Kurt sighs and looks around himself. He can't exactly just start spewing off about Smythe's idea and risk somebody overhearing. But they're sitting at the far corner and there aren't many people near them – the few that are, are pretty much deep in conversation.

He leans closer and keeps his voice discreet, "Smythe thinks that we need to find a way to get Anderson out of the game. Or, better yet, get his head out of the head. So he told me, in no uncertain terms, that if I seduce and break Anderson's heart the night before the game, he'll make me Captain next year."

Her eyebrows disappear beneath her bangs in a split second. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops a little bit.

"I'm not gonna do it."

"Obviously." She breathes.

"I mean…"

"No… You shouldn't. That's…"

"Exactly."

There's a long stretch of awkward silence, where they're both failing to conceal exactly how uncertain they are about the whole thing.

"Well, let's be honest here…" Rachel says after a while, "He did singlehandedly humiliate our team. I mean, speaking as a Chaser, myself, I'd be the first to say I'd like to see him off the field. But…"

"But it's wrong."

"And whatever happened to good, old-fashioned physical pranks…?"

"Exactly! Well, I guess it's to easy to trace back to us, and we'll be disqualified."

"As opposed to traced back to you?"

"But isn't that the point? That it's so out in the open. Everyone would know we'd been dating, but as long as they don't know this was always my intention they can't actually blame me for dating him."

"Right, right."

"And I suppose the karmic beauty of it all would be that taking him out of the field would get them to loose, yes, but they'd be simple victims of foul play or bad luck; but making him perform badly would humiliate their team, just like we were." He reasons.

"I can see that. I can definitely see that." She nods.

"But on the other hand, everyone will think that I'm genuinely dating some Hufflepuff kid that had to repeat a year."

She frowns, "Wait. You're always on Santana's case about how we shouldn't judge based on houses, and when everyone was making fun of Anderson missing that whole year you were super angry about that, and kept reminding everyone that we had no clue what had happened, and that he was probably not retarded, because-"

"Yes. Well. Things change."

"What changed?"

"The game…?"

"Right, right." She nods, "I guess it's understandable."

"So, you think I should do it?"

She stutters and grimaces, "I… Well, probably not."

"It's not like we'd know for sure he'd be into me, anyway. I might as well just be making a fool of myself coming on to him."

"Yeah, I bet you're not even his type."

Kurt frowns, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, I just… I was-"

"Nevermind. I can't do it. It's not – I can't."

"Yeah…" Rachel nods solemnly. They're silent for a good minute before Rachel leans forward and asks, "Do you think Sebastian would consider me for Captain if I did that with Finn?"

"No."

-x-

Every day that week Kurt gets up from bed feeling conflicted. No, not conflicted. There's nothing to feel conflicted about because he'd never do it. He'd never stoop that low. He wants to win, just like anybody else, but he wants to win on merit and talent, not on shenanigans.

He wakes up feeling weird – that's it. Feeling weird.

And it certainly doesn't help the way Sebastian keeps giving him meaningful looks, and pointing to his watch every time they cross ways.

Kurt keeps finding stupid muggle books on basic Math and little notes explaining how to add in his bag and even though he's pretty sure it's either Sebastian or someone paid by Sebastian to put them there, it's still getting to him. It doesn't even come close to the bullying he suffered at the hands of Karofsky, but it's enough to get him annoyed and riled up.

Friday afternoon, Transfiguration, he sits in the front row, as usual, half captivated by Professor July but still to bothered to be able to give her his full attention. She notices and squints in his direction a couple of times, and he figures he's going to have to explain himself at the end of class. Everyone knows he's her top student, so she never lets him slip anything past her.

If anything it annoys him even more that this whole thing has managed to interfere with his passion for the subject.

As she excuses them she needs only glance at him before Kurt nods. He packs up his things, but doesn't file out of class like everyone else. Instead he goes up to her desk and immediately sighs, "I'm sorry, I've had a strange week."

She studies him, "What happened?"

"Nothing happened, really. It's just… Quidditch stuff…"

She scoffs, "Hummel, I never pegged you for one of those idiots that actually think the Quidditch Cup means anything…"

"I…"

"It's fun. I was a chaser once, I get it…" she drawls and twirls her hands dismissively, "But unless you want to do it professionally I suggest you keep it in the pitch and bring your a game to class. I'd be truly disappointed if I have to give you anything less than your usual A, but I'd do it."

"No, I know… Of course…" he sighs, dropping his eyes from hers in a way he hadn't done since first year when he turned up late to her class after losing track of time doing his hair. That's when he sees it. As his eyes land on her desk, a piece of parchment pokes out with a bright red A+ branded on it.

No one gets A+ with Professor July. No one. Not Kurt, not anyone. Kurt is her best student and he's never gotten an A+.

For a moment he thinks it's his, but he hasn't had to hand in anything yet. So he looks closer and just as he reads the name atop she snatches it out and chuckles, "I see you noticed it! I hope you're not jealous."

"I…"

"I'll admit I always thought that if I was going to have an A+ it would've been yours. But I suppose Anderson would've been a close second, anyway." She looks over the essay again, a smirk gracing her features before she clicks her tongue, drops it back down and shakes her head, "Stellar…" she breathes, a little amused.

"How…? What…?"

"Do you want to read it?" Her tone is teasing at best.

"I… no."

"Okay." She shrugs and then laughs, "When you incorporate things well above NEWT level into your essays you'll get your A+, sweetie." She taps him condescendingly on the nose before taking his shoulders and turning him around, toward the door. "You can go now."

"I… Yeah… Thanks, Professor." He manages numbly as he stumbles his way outside.

"And don't you ever spend another one of my classes with your head in the Quidditch pitch!" she calls after him. He doesn't get to answer as the door closes right after himself, practically cutting off her last word.

She did it on purpose. She wanted him to see it.

Was she in on it with Sebastian, or was it just one of her fantastic pedagogical tools, to motivate him to do even better than he already did?

She couldn't be in on it. She just couldn't – she said it herself, she didn't believe in dragging Quidditch rivalries and issues onto classrooms and she didn't even watch all of the games. She could care less about it, and he doubts she'd do this just to nudge him in the wrong direction.

But nudge she did.

The next time he sees Blaine Anderson that day, it's just after last period, and the other boy is actually coming out of her classroom, his face beet red as he stares at the damn essay. There is a disbelieving, shy smile gracing his features, growing by the second.

Professor July exists the classroom shortly after him, and ruffles his (ugh, gelled!) hair before she continues down the corridor, in the opposite direction.

Sam Evans is right next to Blaine grinning and ignoring his own essay, which seems to be marked an unsurprising C.

Kurt takes a deep breath and tries to think about his father, and what he'd tell him to do.

Yes, that's a good idea. What would Burt do? will be Kurt's new mantra, and it's all that's keeping him from tearing down the corridors in search of Sebastian to tell him he'll do it.

That works fine right up until the moment a big ruckus on the other side of the corridor interrupts his thoughts. He's still reeling, and he doesn't act as quick as he should. Before he knows it, Anderson is speeding past him, wand in hand, and Kurt barely manages to take off after him.

It's a fifth year Gryffindor, whose name Kurt doesn't know because he'd rather not, holding a box and grinning, announcing there's a boggart in there. He's surrounded by first and second years and they all look startled and terrified. Some of them are whimpering each time the box so much as jiggles.

Kurt reaches them just as Anderson's opening his mouth to say something. Kurt shoves him away and says, "I got this." Stepping forward, "You're going to come with me to see Professor Beiste."

Before the other boy can so much as look at him, there's a hand yanking back at Kurt's elbow, "What do you mean you got this? I got here first. I got this!"

"Now's not the time." Kurt mutters irritably, "I'm sixth year. I got seniority over you. I got this."

"Bullshit!"

"Anderson, if I wasn't here, you'd get this. But I'm here, and I'm older-"

"You're not older than m-"

"All the more reason." Kurt sneers, "I didn't repeat a year. I'm the right age for sixth year."

"You-" Anderson starts but doesn't get to finish before every first year around them starts screaming and wailing in fear, "Jake, don't!" Blaine gasps, but the boy is already opening the box.

"Get back!" Kurt manages, towards the first years, and he moves towards the box, but Blaine's already there, right in front of it, shielding the paralyzed kids.

It happens in a split second. One second it's nothing but an open card box, dark inside, the other there are three men, huddled close, with dark hoodies pulled over their faces and beater's bats in their hands. They're jeering, their laughter sending shivers down Kurt's spine and making swift panic pool deep in his belly. He sees as Anderson flinches for a moment before he tightens his hold on his wand and calls out "Ridikulus!" so confident that the boggart evaporates into thin air.

The kids have all stopped panicking, and they're just staring wide eyed and amazed at Anderson, who flicks his wand again, making the box disappear and says, in a tense voice, "Jake, come with me."

Kurt's still rooted to his spot by the time Anderson and the kid turn the corner and he barely manages to shake his head and sprint after them.

Anderson doesn't even so much as spare him a second glance as he catches up to them.

"You should've just let me take care of it." Kurt tells him, internally cringing as his voice comes out breathy and not at all commanding like he needed, "If you'd listened to me, the dickwad here wouldn't even have opened the box."

"Or if you hadn't tried to stop me when I was already there…" Anderson mutters through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.

The idiot boy snickers and both of them send him glares, shutting him up effectively and immediately.

-x-

They watch quietly as Professor Beiste gives a stern talking to to Jake Puckerman, and takes 20 points from Gryffindor. Watching the whole exchange, Kurt has to wonder, as he can't quite decide what would be worse, Professor Sylvester usual endless stream of insults whenever someone fucks up, or Professor Beiste's "I'm so disappointed in you…" spiel. In the end Kurt has to admit he'd much rather be on the receiving end of angry or even jeering insults, rather than stern, heartfelt words spoken like a parent.

When she dismisses Puckerman with a tired sigh, like the final punch to a ruined bag, Kurt starts to move away as well. Instead she calls, "And you two."

Kurt blanches. He hopes she's going to thank them for handling the situation, but he knows better.

"Why did this even happen? How did he have the opportunity to open that box if you got there before he did?" she asks, and Kurt can tell that Anderson is just as tongue tied as he is, if not more. Kurt glances to his side, and it gives him a small sick pleasure to see the other boy's face sporting the harshest case of the shameful blush, and he's biting his lip hard enough to bruise. "Why was he not stopped immediately? Pray tell, what was so important for you to discuss that he had time to carry his stupid idea through?"

"I…" Kurt starts, because it's obvious they're not going to leave until they say at least one word, "We…"

"You are Prefects!" She interrupts, and Kurt is equal parts thankful and annoyed, "You have a responsibility to act accordingly, and not get caught up in stupid rivalries and who gets to do the cool things and be the – no, you know what? I'm changing your patrolling schedules. Give them here!"

Blaine pulls his out of the pocket of his bag and Kurt produces his. She taps her wand to them, and Kurt could groan as he sees his name next to Blaine on his Monday and Wednesday evening patrols.

"Learn to work together. Grow up." She tells them before she flicks her wand and her office door is yanked open.

They nod dumbly before hurrying out, practically running.

The door's just slammed closed behind them when Kurt collides against someone not at all solid and the cold chill of walking through a ghost stops him on his tracks with a startled yelp. Almost at once a very solid body collides against his back and sends them both crashing to the floor.

Anderson groans clutching his knee as his bag and everything in it scatters over the floor.

Kurt hops to his feet, ready to leave the idiot to fend for himself, and hesitates.

Right next to his own foot there's the folded parchment, the bright red A+ peaking just enough to tease him into madness.

With a thundering heart, and despite every single cell of his body screaming angrily at him, Kurt drops to his knees and starts helping Anderson collect his things.