To: SweetCaroline91('Favorite Fanfic Author of the Summer')

From: Kalaert ('Devoted Reader Who Doesn't Have Much Internet Time Beyond Quick Trips To The Internet Café To Copy and Paste The Newest Chapter Unto Her Flash Drive' and 'Who Has Shamefully Never Left A Review Or Favourited' and 'Who Humbly Presents This To The Author In Supplication')

For: *coughbribingcough* The Amazing Story Known as 'Champions Lullaby'

A/N: This author is awesomesauce, and her story is fantastic. Try it! You won't be disappointed (you will be strung out on the edge of a cliffhanger though. But you'll love that too). Go and show her love!

Disclaimer: This story idea is not mine, Harry Potter and Glee are not mine. No money is being made off this, and I only used these ideas in the most poetic sense where I give all credit to the original creators. Think of it like me trying to emulate you and basically show my love of your work. Because I do, and I am.


Omake: Kinks, Phobias and Obnoxious Friends

It was shaping up to be a lovely weekend. In fact it started out that way. Afternoon classes were canceled due to an emergency staff meeting dealing with the mysterious illness that had suddenly befallen the principal, board of directors and several teachers (Kurt noticed the Weasley twins looking particularly shifty when that was announced). Harry took Kurt out to a wonderful dinner – a huge risk since he was leaving the others to their own devices. It was bad enough when they got restless and bored. Without him there to be all logical and clever, their half-baked plots might actually destroy them all. Harry, well-used to ignoring his feeble conscience, spared half a thought of coming back to find the whole school burned to the ground with Ron and the twins dancing madly in the ashes. Then he got distracted by the way Kurt slid a forkful of delicious cheesecake between his much-more-delicious lips. He gave a manly whimper, but managed to change it into a weird, high-pitched cough when Kurt looked at him suspiciously.

Hell, who cared about the fate of Dalton? The real dilemma was his need to get laid. Preferably soon.

There was no need to worry anyway. Most of his friends followed his lead, taking their special someones out for the afternoon, while the rest took the time to catch up on their neglected sleep. This significantly reduced the usual level of mayhem at Dalton. Thus did Friday end on a good note.

But all good things must come to an end. And the morning after his date, it became apparent that Fred had reverted to his thirteen year old girl form: grinning and giggling to himself; loudly reciting bad poetry (that he made up on the spot); flouncing around in a horrible imitation of ballet with cardboard wings taped to his shoulders, and shooting exaggerated winks at anyone who looked at him. He not only knew he was being aggravating, he was enjoying it too.

Anyone could see he was just dying to tell someone what had him in such a good mood, but honestly, no one wanted to know. The leer on his face said it all.

After Fred started in on the sappy love songs, his friends and family were ready to disown him. But since he would probably make himself an even bigger pain in the backside until they took him back, they did the next best thing.

Not a soul protested when Harry and the other, currently saner, twin stuffed a muffin in his mouth and frog-marched him back to their room. Ron, Kurt and Blaine pretended to be extremely busy while they shoved him in the bathroom and locked it from the outside.

Big mistake.

For a while everything was fine and dandy. Ron tried teaching Blaine how to play chess, with George making faces over his shoulder that made Blaine snicker. Harry curled up on the bed next to Kurt, who was glued to his laptop, and began going through Luna's newest art portfolio. It contained jewelry (mainly rings), wedding cakes and, for whatever undisclosed reason, photo-manipulated pictures of him and Kurt in complimenting tuxedos. Harry frowned as he felt an impending sense of doom. Just like he did before that time she talked him into freeing a whale.

Or the time she took him to the circus and they ended up substituting for the acrobats.

Or the time they liberated an ice-cream truck parked down the street and ended up cosplaying at a Lord of the Rings convention.

Or the time she convinced him to sneak into a college party and they ended up painted like matching rainbow murals with wooden antlers. He still didn't understand that one.

Before he could try puzzling it out for the fiftieth time, Fred decided to disturb the peace with loud, abrasive singing. He began with Taylor Swift's 'You Belong With Me', and it all went downhill from there. The love songs were endless, intentionally off-tune and worse, catchy. The acoustics were a whole lot better in there, but the singing was not. In fact, for someone who could actually sing, Fred was so horrible it was almost impressive. He was amazingly cringe-worthy singing Mariah Carey, Justin Timberlake and Whitney Houston. He butchered Justin Beiber, Madonna and Chris Brown. When he started on 'Teenage Dream', Harry tossed the portfolio and buried his head under a pillow with a heartfelt moan. Ron, George and even Blaine, the devoted Katy Perry fanboy, stuffed their fingers in their ears. Kurt turned the music on the laptop to the highest setting, but that didn't work either; it just encouraged him to sing louder.

Ron struggled valiantly through Celine Dion, Rihanna, Beyonce and Britney Spears (delivered opera style), but when Fred started on the chorus of David Blunt's 'You're Beautiful' he shot out of the room, phone in hand. A couple minutes later he stuck his head through the doorway. Clumps of red hair stuck up violently where he'd been tugging on it in frustration. He looked almost as crazy as he was.

"I'm taking Hermione on an impromptu date!" he yelled to them. "She says she's got a fatal case of the frizzies cuz of the humidity, but she's taking pity on me because of that song. Good luck, mates!"

And just like that he was gone.

"Traitor!" Harry called, voice muffled. Kurt frowned at him worriedly, wondering if he was getting enough air with how tightly he was clasping that pillow over his head.

Five minutes later Jeff appeared at the door, hands over his ears. Kurt and Blaine were only too happy for the unplanned Warblers' rehearsal, shooting guilty looks at Harry (who was sitting up and pouting at them, pillow still around his head) as they fled.

Finally, only George and Harry were left to suffer – a fitting punishment for imprisoning Fred, or so karma would have it. They looked at each other's haggard faces and silently admitted defeat. George went up to the bathroom door, spat out the key in his mouth into his hand and unlocked it.

"And as long as you hold me clooooooooooo-!"

George shoved the door open with a loud bang, shocking Fred into silence. Harry looked over to see him sitting on the closed toilet, a washed-out red (pink) towel on his head turban-style and an empty roll of toilet paper held in the parody of a mike. During 'Let It Snow' he'd obviously gotten carried away – there was shredded toilet paper all over the bathroom, and more falling softly from the air.

George glared. Harry rubbed his aching temples, muttering darkly.

Fred regrouped quickly, scrambling off the toilet. "Hi mates. Did you enjoy the show? I know I did. It's called 'Bathroom Ballads' and I'm thinking of having Lee promote it; he's deejaying this summer. It'll be a hit with the ladies."

The grating, off-key singing and face-splitting grin were bad enough, but Fred's sly wink was the absolute last straw. George finally snapped.

"Ok, we've had enough. Spill it."

"Spill what?"

"Why you're so damn happy!"

"It's like you've been possessed by a Care Bear," Harry added, absently gathering the pictures that had spilled all over the bed.

Fred pouted. "Couldn't it be something more manly?"

"Like what, Barney? A Teletubby?" George asked scathingly. "I think the blue one's a guy, would that suffice?"

He was rewarded with a scowl. But even Fred's dark look was better than the 'obnoxiously-in-love' one from before. Or the 'singing' that was more like 'cruel and unusual torture'.

George ruthlessly squashed the twinge of guilt he felt. Everyone in their little group knew that Fred had a phobia of schizophrenic girls, singing-and-dancing mutant animals and...whatever the hell Teletubbies were supposed to be. George didn't even remember why, only that there'd been a 'traumatizing event' with a floating parade at Disney World, followed by six months of therapy.

They'd started calling themselves 'Gred and Forge' because at that time 'George' brought up images of the curious monkey. 'The Land of Time' became a series of horror shorts. Even to this day, the codename for boobaas was 'Pygmy Puff' and it doubled as an insult. The reason they even had a codename was because they were taboo...due to the fact that even hearing their name turned Fred rabid.

All right, that last one was partly George's fault...but he hadn't meant to cause so much damage. Honestly! It was just an innocent little prank (or an attempt to help his twin overcome his fear, whichever sounded better in court). How was he to know it would turn out so horribly, devastatingly, unspeakably wrong? How was he supposed to know that the weird little fluffy things had satanic powers, or that they hypnotized their victims, planting subliminal messages into their minds? That Inception movie hadn't even come out yet!

Well, come to think of it, Luna used to watch that show all the time when they were younger...that really should've tipped him off. Especially as she had the black, shriveled heart of a vampire, and the intelligence to match. Or maybe she was just possessed by a demon. Note how she enticed her prey into her deceptively soft hands and proceeded to suck their souls out.

"You know, there are some things you don't absolutely need to know," Fred glared, looking sulky. He crossed the room and slouched down next to Harry. His faded-red (pink) turban had fallen off halfway there, but everyone ignored it.

"That's bull, Fred. We're brothers, twins. I know what you know. And Harry's like the Godfather of our Mafia group. We have no secrets among us."

George scoffed, and flopped down on Harry's other side (so that 'the Godfather' would be the human shield if Fred decided to punch him for bringing up bad memories). Harry rolled his eyes, knowing this but beyond caring at that point. As long as Fred was doing something else, he wasn't singing, and right now Harry would put up with a lot just for that.

"OK then. Angelina and I got it on last night."

George stared at him. "That's all? You're this happy because you got to second base?"

He looked just about ready to knock his brother's block off.

Fred smiled blissfully. "Five times."

George gaped.

"Three times yesterday and two last night."

His twin looked less irritated and more respectful.

"You haven't been possessed by a Care Bear. You've been possessed by a porn star."

Fred winked. Again.

Harry finally abandoned Luna's portfolio to ask, "Did you keep the headmaster's Viagra when you switched them for laxatives last weekend?"

"Nah. You remember the secret experiments we've been conducting in the evil lair?" That was their codename for the Chemistry lab (which, for some strange reason, was down in the school's drafty basement). They both nodded 'yes'. "Well I was the latest test subject." He finished modestly.

A wicked grin crawled over George's face.

"And you decided to spice things up once you felt the full effects, did you?" he teased.

"Oh, stop it, you're making me blush!" Fred giggled, covering his cheeks with both hands and lowering his eyes coyly. Then he dropped the act and leered at them. "I really let loose, guys. I was a dynamo, the epitome of a sex idol! At one point she was begging me for mercy, but I just kept a-going –"

George grimaced in disgust, a sure sign of his overactive imagination.

"Fred," he interrupted. "You know what? You were right. We should definitely keep some things private."

Harry snorted. "You do know he was using deliberately misleading language to gross you out, right? Encouraging you to get off his case. Very subtle Fred," he added sarcastically. "Next time, please try to resist over-sharing."

As one the twins swiveled their heads round to eye him speculatively. This sizing up went on for a very long, uncomfortable thirty seconds. Harry began to get that caged-in feeling...a prelude to disaster.

"What?" He asked warily, edging away. His self-preservation instincts were tingling.

"So Harry," Fred suddenly began, draping one arm around Harry's neck and tugging him close so he couldn't escape. "You've been holding out on us. It's not like you to be this quiet about your consort."

"It's always 'Kurt this' and 'Kurt that' and 'Kurt's so awesome I will worship at his altar forever'," his brother added grumpily. "Usually we have to threaten to tape your mouth shut to get any peace around here."

"Silence is golden, duct tape is silver," Fred solemnly intoned. "But now you've stopped talking altogether. It's maddening."

"It's so unfair."

"You're an evil, suspense-feeding monster!"

"I took an Unbreakable Vow of silence, remember?" Harry said dryly. "You demanded it."

The twins gasped and managed to look affronted. "You make it sound like we forced you to."

"Yeah, it was only a suggestion."

"A strongly worded suggestion, true."

"And, well, we may have implied that refusal to comply would be met with violent consequences."

"Us waving our makeshift weapons around would have given you that idea…"

"Having Hermione lecture you on boundaries may have been too much, though…"

"Let's not forget the part where you tied me to a chair and made Ron give me the Talk."

"Oh yeah, that was definitely overdoing it. Sorry..."

"...but it was all for The Greater Good. We needed to preserve the little bit of our sanity that remains. It's endangered."

George shrugged. "The girls called it an intervention. We went with it."

"Riiiight," Harry drawled. "Well, I'll thank you not to poke your nose into places it doesn't belong."

"Just as soon as you answer us about Kurt," Fred agreed pleasantly.

Harry groaned. "You've completely missed the point."

"No, we're just ignoring your thinly veiled threats until you satisfy our curiosity."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"Satisfaction brought it back," they chorused together gleefully.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, I do."

"What a coincidence, I do too!"

"Your determination is outmatched by our joined tenacity," Fred insisted.

"Come on, fearless leader. Sharing is caring," George added, batting his eyelashes coyly. It was disturbingly cute. Like a Disney piranha.

The right side of Fred's face went into spasms at the sight of it.

Harry scoffed. "No."

But would they take that for an answer? Of course not. Those two didn't know the meaning of the word. Harry screwed his eyes shut and groaned inwardly as the questions came pouring in.

"Does he meet the standards of an excellent boyfriend?"

"Do you always make the first move?"

"How does he let you know he wants to be kissed?"

"Has he groped you yet? I've caught him staring at your ass, completely mesmerized…"

"Does he make that funny squeaking noise when you're necking?"

"What does he smell like..."

"...and how does he make you feel?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how was your date yesterday?"

"Were you nervous?"

"Did you guys have the chocolate cheesecake? Or the," a lascivious giggle "vanilla with strawberries on top?"

A knowing look, "Were you jealous of the fork?"

"Did he make a fuss about you footing the bill?"

"What was he wearing?"

"What's his kink?"

"Do you kink together?"

"Have you even gotten to second base yet?"

"Does he pull your hair? Is he a biter?"

"Licker?"

"Moaner?"

"Screamer?"

"Grabber?"

"Spanker?"

"Nipple-puller?"

"Nipple-puller?" Fred and Harry said incredulously, staring at George.

"Katie likes to pull on my nipple-ring," he mumbled, flushing self-consciously. When they continued to stare he crossed his arms over his chest area like a defensive virgin and said tersely, "It's a huge turn-on! Don't knock it 'til you try it."

Those few awkward moments that followed allowed Harry to finally slip out from under Fred's arm. Honestly, why was his arm so heavy? Was it a side effect of Caveman Sundays where they ran around the park whacking each other with foam bats? He'd have to find another outlet for their pent-up aggression that didn't put him at risk of capture so often. Or ever.

Unfortunately, his latest escape brought their attention right back to him.

"So Harry, what is it? Is Kurt a chains and whips kind of guy?" Fred asked. They both looked at him expectantly.

"It's none of your business what he is; you're not the ones dating him."

The twins stared at him blankly as he huffed and tidied up Luna's photos and sketches, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a straight answer. Then they looked at each other and started grinning.

"Yeah, that's right, he's dating Harry Potter."

"And Kurt is like his soul mate or something, right?"

"Yeah, no one else can handle all his drama and mood swings like Kurt. They're so perfect together it's borderline creepy. That can only mean one thing…"

"I knew he was a scratcher!"

Harry sighed, thoroughly exasperated. "Guys, I'm not discussing this anymore."

"You know we're right!"

"Yeah, your lips look guilty!"

Harry studiously ignored that.

"Your questions are inappropriate. They're invasive, insulting and frankly disturbing. So I am refusing to answer at all, case closed."

"Oh, I see what you did there," Fred said, sniffing haughtily. "You tricked me into spilling my big secret, but now you don't want to return the favor you're pulling the old 'I have integrity' card."

George patted his brother on the arm comfortingly.

"Don't bother Fred; he's too afraid we'll judge him harshly for what he gets up to in bed."

Harry paused and cocked an eyebrow.

"You know, I'm not too afraid to tell your girlfriends – and my 'consort' – you've been disrespecting them behind their backs, indulging in demeaning sex talk…"

He let that threat sink in for a minute then stood to walk away, tucking the bulging folder under his arm.

"You wouldn't!" both twins gasped in horror.

"Oh, if I did you'd be the first to know."

"But...I didn't mean it like that," Fred protested weakly.

The twins shuddered, envisioning their deaths at the hands of enraged feminists. The worst thing was, if Harry ratted them out he'd still come out squeaky clean and smelling of roses. And while they got their asses handed to them, he'd be on the sidelines with a camcorder, taping their embarrassment for future blackmail and smirking infuriatingly.

Just like he was smirking at them now. "I trust this conversation is now Obliviated?"

The twins nodded sourly.

"And there'll be no more sex talks? No more prying into my sex life with Kurt?"

The twins dutifully mimed zipping their lips shut.

"And no more bad singing or dancing or skipping down the hallways in a towel reciting bad poetry?"

They hesitated.

"Everyone sings in the shower," twin one protested mildly. "And it might not always be top form."

"And it's not like we'll always dance perfectly," twin two added. "Moody's 'Constant Vigilance!' is exhausting. Even saying it makes me tired."

"And what if Luna's next assignment involves us skipping down the – "

"Alright, I get it. Let me rephrase – there better be no more intentionally bad singing or dancing. And the only skipping you'll do is at my or Luna's command."

Fred and George shook hands to show they agreed with those terms – they shook Harry's hand once each, and each other's hand twice.

"I no longer have any recollection of the last five hours. Everything is just a huge white blur."

"We'll swear it before the special court if you want us to."

"Good. That's all I needed to know."

As he walked off, he heard Fred whine, "What I really want to know is when the hell did you get a nipple ring? Actually, why did you get a nipple ring? Now we don't match anymore! Everyone will be able to tell us apart – how am I supposed to deal with this loss of identity?"

"Get a clip-on, you great big adolescent schoolgirl," his twin answered dryly. "Crisis averted."